


Who Needs the Sunshine?

by MotherLilith



Category: Being Human (UK)
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Bisexuality, Biting, Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Complicated Relationships, Consequences, Detox, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Everyone Has Issues, F/M, Fever Dreams, Guilt, Hal Yorke Has Issues, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Non-Consensual Blood Drinking, Not Canon Compliant, Past Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Pining, Suicidal Thoughts, Swearing, Trauma, Vampires, Withdrawal, post-season 4 finale
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:02:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 22,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28670451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MotherLilith/pseuds/MotherLilith
Summary: Nick Cutler is going through withdrawal in the basement of Honolulu Heights, and there's a lot that needs to be said before he can begin his life of sobriety. Meanwhile, Hal doesn't know how to deal with his feelings for the man that has reappeared again in his life after fifty years.
Relationships: Allison Larkin/Tom McNair, Nick Cutler/Hal Yorke, Nick Cutler/Rachel Cutler
Comments: 8
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Post season 4 AU, just go with it. Loosely follows on from the Hal/Cutler relationship established in my prequel fic, 'The Devil and the Damned', but not a direct sequel. Hopefully will end up as a connecting piece between that and my fluffy Christmas fics.

Hal didn’t want to do this. He was only barely holding himself together, as it was. He felt his fingers twitching as he opened the door to the basement. In one hand, he carried a bucket. He didn’t want to do this because it was so hard to see him again, especially suffering like he was. But after everything he’d done to Cutler, how could he refuse him help when he came asking for it?

Hal breathed in through his nose and then slowly exhaled through his mouth. He told himself that he could do this, that he was strong enough to face him. Trying to maintain his composure, he walked down the steps as though he was that other man. The one so cool and in control in his finely tailored suit. But he couldn’t ignore the fact that he was wearing a grey button-up shirt and jeans, and all he felt was pity for the young vampire tied to the chair. The one he hadn’t seen for fifty years.

Cutler looked pale under the flickering fluorescent light and the blood sweats had started, judging from the moisture beading on his forehead. He scowled when he saw Hal and bared his fangs in a hiss.

“Let me go. I’ve changed my mind.”

“We’ve started now, and I intend to keep me word to you,” Hal said calmly.

“Break it,” the vampire snarled. “I don’t care what you promised. Just let me go, I need blood!”

Hal ignored him and set the bucket down next to him.

“This is your first time, so I thought I’d let you know what to expect. There will be pain as the blood leaves your system. Nausea, cramps, sickness, tremors. You will hallucinate and be unable to sleep. The thirst will be so great that you almost won’t be able to bear it”.

“Oh, is that all?”, said Cutler sarcastically.

Hal shook his head. “No. That will pass, and it is then that you will start to feel again. You will remember what you’ve done, and it will devastate you. It is at this point that you would break, if indeed you were not tied to the chair”.

“And then what?”

Hal paused before saying, “And then, in time, you will come to live with what you’ve done.”

Cutler laughed hollowly, the sound echoing around the closeness of the damp cellar.

“That’s a bit bloody insufficient, don’t you think?”

Hal turned to leave.

“I will come and check on you in the morning.”

“Wait, Hal! please don’t go...”

But he was already gone.

*

“So? What now?” Tom asked. They were stood in the kitchen. Hal was pacing back and forth, turning a domino between his fingers.

“I still think we should stake him.” Alex said.

Tom frowned. “What? Just like that? I know what he’s done, but you saw him before. The state he was in.”

“Yeah, and I say we should have finished him off when he was still Crispy McBacon instead of letting him escape.”

Tom shook his head. “Nah, I meant when he came back crying, and that. Saying he wanted help. That he wanted to get clean.”

Alex pointed angrily in the direction of the basement, almost shaking with fury.

“He…No. _That thing_ down there bloody killed me! Did you expect me to just forget about that?”

“I didn’t mean it like that-” he protested.

“Because that’s definitely what it sounded like.”

“I just think, he’s come here asking for help, so he can’t be all bad,” Tom mumbled apologetically.

“Oh my god, are you seriously defending him?”, Alex said exasperatedly. “When he tricked you into almost killing a whole nightclub full of people?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t!”

“That’s not the point! You’re way too trusting of people, Thomas. This is probably just another trick to get us to lower our guard. Who knows what he’s planning down there?”

“Never said I trusted him, did I?”

“I thought you were supposed to be a fearless vampire slayer or something?”

“Yeah, but what if I want to be more than that?”

“Enough, please!” Hal interrupted. “You need to stop arguing.”

“Um, and why is that exactly?” Alex asked, turning on him. “Don’t we get a say in all this?”

Hal stopped pacing and turned to face her. “Look, I know this must be unbelievably hard for you, but you heard him before in that cellar. He killed you because of what I did to him. So, if you want to blame someone, then blame me.”

“I’m not particularly happy with you either,” she said, jabbing a finger at him “But at the end of the day you’re not the one who did this to me. He is.”

Hal shook his head. He wanted to make her understand because he didn’t want to hurt her more than he already had.

“Fifty years I spent with Leo and Pearl in that barbershop. I thought I was keeping the world safe, but all that time I was hiding from what I’d done. I made him what he is and then because of my cowardice, I abandoned him.”

“He’s not a disadvantaged fucking teen, Hal! He’s a bloody murderer!”

“Well, in our years he’s barely more than a child. Christ, there are human’s who’ve lived longer than him.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh come on, enough with the vampire bullshit. That’s not the point and you know it.”

“Fine," Hal said. "I understand what you're saying, and I accept that he is a risk."

She crossed her arms. “But you feel like you owe him? Is that it?”

“Yes. But more than that, I’m responsible for him.” He was almost pleading with her now. "All those people he killed are on my conscience too. That's why I must to do this, Alex. I’m compelled to.”

She sighed. “Nothing I say is going to change your mind, is it?”

“No. I’m sorry.”

She threw her hands up in the air. “Fine! But keep him out of my way, because if I see him again, I can’t be held accountable for my actions.”

Hal inclined his head, “Fair enough.”

She disappeared in a whoosh of anger.

“Right. So, what now?” Tom asked.

“Now, we wait.”


	2. Chapter 2

Cutler woke up shivering. Cold sweat was soaking through his shirt and there was a terrible pain in his stomach, as though someone was tying his insides in knots. It had been hell trying to get to sleep, and when he’d finally managed it, he’d dreamt feverishly of being back in the warehouse standing before the Old Ones. He’d felt again Mr Snow’s dirty fingers pressing into his face as he whispered through rotten teeth, “I’ve already forgotten your name.”

All those months of careful planning, and now the Old Ones were dead. So what had it all been for? He’d never really believed in all that fate, prophecy bollocks that Regus had always been going on about. He’d just been desperate when he’d come to the house. Willing to try anything, even killing that baby. Anything, to be remembered.

But who was even left to remember now? Everyone he knew was proper dead.

Except Hal, that is.

Christ, it was so cold. He wished the old radiator next to him was on. A moment later he realised it was, but it was still sodding freezing. Bloody Wales. 

Had it all been for him then? Even after all these years, the man still had such a hold over him. Perhaps he had been trying to prove something. To prove that he _was_ something. That Hal had been right, in choosing him. If he was being honest with himself, Cutler thought, he had wanted to make him proud.

He was shivering almost violently now, but it was just some remnant of mammalian instinct trying to keep him from death-by-hypothermia. If it weren’t for that feeling, Cutler would swear that he had about as much life in him as a corpse laid out in a morgue. Suddenly, he realised that the only warmth, the only life left in his body, was in the blood that he had taken. Now that it was leaving his system, he felt as if he was dying all over again.

Thinking about Hal took his mind off it, even if it was pathetic that he still cared so much what his maker thought of him. He had been living in his shadow for more than fifty years, even when he’d almost believed him dead. At a blood level, he’d known it wasn’t true, but it was easier to believe that than to think he’d abandoned him.

And out of, what? boredom? What was it he’d said before? That he’d wanted ‘something different’, something Cutler couldn’t have been part of. And then, for Hal to suddenly return only to chastise him for being the very thing he’d made him? I was almost funny, it was so tragic.

He realised that he was laughing aloud, alone in the empty cellar. Perhaps he was going mad, going around the twist from lack of blood. Could that happen? Because that’s certainly what it felt like to him. The pain in his stomach was terrible now, like cold, writhing snakes. He needed to throw up again, but there was nothing left inside him. But most of all, he needed blood. If only he could get his hands free…

He tugged at his restraints, but it was no use. He was too weak, or he was too tightly bound. He wasn’t sure which. One thing he did know, was that he was only going to get weaker.

God, he wished this would end. Perhaps he could convince Hal to stake him. But if he knew Hal, he was anything but merciful.

*

The next time Hal came down to the basement, Cutler’s eyes were rolling in his head and he was practically frothing at the mouth in anger. Hal was glad that he had tightened the restraints the previous night, else he would surely have broken free in his rage.

“Let me go, let me go you bastard!”

“Calm down, Nick. I’m just going to empty the bucket.”

“How dare you call me that? I’ll tear your fucking throat out!”

“I’m not afraid of you”

“You fucking are. I can smell it on you.”

“Well, let’s not discuss how you smell.”

The mania seemed to break for a moment, and Cutler hung his head in despair. “Just kill me”, he whispered. “Do it, please. I’m not worth it.”

Hal shook his head. “No, you are. Believe me, you are.”

“Why?” Cutler looked up at him. “It’s not like you gave a toss about me before.”

“You get a second chance. I owe you that much.”

Cutler laughed hollowly. “What about a third? Or a fourth? Because if I leave this room, I’ll kill someone, I know I will. The first person I see on the street. An alkie asleep in the park or an OAP sitting on a bench, or a teen mum with a buggy, I don’t care. And if there are witnesses, I’ll kill them too, and it will be your fault for letting me live.”

Hal turned to leave. “Well, I wasn’t planning on letting you out anytime soon.”

“No, don’t you dare-”

But the door had already swung closed.

*

Hal lay on his bed staring at the ceiling, trying to ignore the sound of shouting coming from the basement. It may have been soundproof to human ears, but his hearing was considerably more acute. Another few days had passed, almost without Hal realising it. Time seemed to move haltingly now, with rapid flurries of activity followed by unbearably slow periods of convalescence. His routine currently revolved around taking care of Cutler and making sure that he was as comfortable as he could be, given the circumstances.

He knew that about now, Cutler would be feeling as if he were in hell itself. The vampire was well into the withdrawal, and every time Hal went to down to the basement to check on him, he was either deliriously unaware of his presence or shouting obscenities at him. The sight reminded him that not long ago, he had been the one in that chair.

He’d worried that having another vampire in the house, especially one who was drying out, would trigger his bloodlust. And indeed, he realised that he’d allowed Tom to let him out too early when he started hearing the pounding of heartbeats in Tesco and became fixated on the neck of the cashier scanning his shopping. He’d driven home quickly and began lining up his dominos one by one before even unpacking the frozen food.

But maybe if he wasn’t responsible for Cutler, and didn’t have the other vampire as a daily reminder of what they were both fighting against, then he wouldn’t even have driven home. Perhaps instead he would have waited in the carpark until the cashier’s shift had finished. Or simply grabbed a random person from the street.

If he was having thoughts like that, he realised, leaving the house was out of the question, at least for the time being. So, it was useful to have something to focus on, even if having Cutler here brought up memories that he would rather forget. He didn’t want to think about London, or Brighton, or the time they’d spent in Cardiff before returning to the City. None of it, really. Those memories made him feel many things, but mostly ashamed. Even if they were distant and blurry, as though they belonged to another man.

*

Cutler was starting to remember things he hadn’t thought about in years. There were a lot of memories he'd tried to bury, but now they all seemed to be trying to claw their way to the surface. He remembered cabbage boiling on the stove and shirts dirty with oil soaking in the sink. He remembered his tin soldier, who had a sword and such a brilliant red uniform. He’d been a small child. Not sickly, but not exactly like the other boys who roamed the streets of Poplar. He’d liked maps and facts and History class. He’d dreamed of being big and strong and brave, a great inventor like Thomas Edison or an explorer like Scott of the Antarctic. It was easier to make up stories about his life, than to live it.

His mother was a quiet and obedient woman, not that she had much choice. His father was a hard drinker, a joiner working down the shipyard from sunrise to sunset. It was better not to think about the times he was home. Mostly, he remembered hiding under the bed with his solider and trying not to listen to what has happening in the other room.

Both were long dead now. Strangely, he didn’t remember any other relatives. Most of the old tenements had groaned under the weight of their occupants, so maybe there had been aunties, uncles, cousins, but they’d snuffed it during the blitz?

He remembered being top of his class at University, but still not feeling like he was good enough to be there. The boys who’d gone to public school had certainly treated him as if he were less deserving of it than themselves. So, he’d dropped his accent and adopted something that sounded vaguely like theirs in the hopes that he’d fit in. It hadn’t worked.

It was the same when he’d started working at the law firm. He’d felt like a fraud, like it was only a matter of time before his colleagues and his boss knew it too. That’s why he’d worked so hard, always trying to please people, to make them like him so that they wouldn’t see how small and inadequate he felt inside.

But Hal had seen. Seen his ambition, his desperation to be something, anything except his parents. He’d played him like the devil plays the fiddle. What was it he’d said? Those last words, before he’d done it, sealing his fate forever? “There’s a seeping realisation that your dreams and ambitions are just too big, too rich for this domestic world.” That’s why he’d chosen him, to mould him into something weak and greedy. A degenerate like his father, except alcohol wasn’t his vice.

It wasn’t just about blood, though. He had wanted Hal like he’d never wanted anybody before. He was everything to him; his maker, his master. His lover too, if that was the right word for it. Perhaps tormentor would be more accurate. But Cutler had needed him, almost as much as he'd needed the blood. And what was worse, was that Hal had barely seemed to care. He'd hated him for that, even before he left. 

He wasn’t sure how long he had been down in the basement. There was no window, so it was impossible to tell how much time had passed. He hadn't slept for a while, though he was exhausted from the muscle cramps and the searing pain in his stomach. He’d been throwing up again, and was beyond thirsty. He felt as though he was slowly being dried out and buried in the desert sand like an Egyptian mummy.

If he’d had the strength, he would have torn through the restraints that held him and clawed his way free of the cell. But he couldn’t move an inch. He was helpless. He couldn’t even defend himself if Hal changed his mind and decided to stake him, because he obviously wasn’t worth the effort.

Perhaps Hal was just doing this to torture him, as he’d so often done before. Just another cruel game, another joke at his expense. Maybe Hal had left him here to rot and he wasn’t coming back.

But the thought of being left alone with his thoughts brought him little comfort.

*

Eventually, Hal returned.

He held a glass of water in his hand and brought it to Cutler’s lips, tilting it carefully for him to drink. He swallowed, but the liquid was empty, lifeless, and did nothing to relieve his thirst.

“Why the fuck did you give me that?”, Cutler demanded. “You knew it was no good.”

“I thought it might provide some refreshment.”

“Oh, sure you did,” he said sarcastically. “You know what I think? You’re enjoying this.”

“I can assure you that I am not,” Hal said with deliberate calm.

His unflinching composure grated on Cutler’s nerves.

“I know you like to see me weak and suffering,” he accused. “It makes you feel powerful, like you’re God or something.”

“You’re the one who asked for my help,” Hal pointed out.

“Yeah, because I had no one else to turn to!”

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“I want you to admit it.” Cutler demanded.

“What?”

“That the whole time, this is what you wanted. For me to come to you on my knees, begging you to put me in my proper place.”

Hal sighed exasperatedly. “I don’t know how to even begin to address that statement.”

“Because it’s the truth.”

“No it’s…” Hal closed his eyes and breathed slowly to calm himself. “Look, this isn’t exactly easy for me either. To see what you’ve become, because of me. He looked at him pityingly, and the expression made Cutler’s stomach turn. “For that, you’ll never know how sorry I am.”

Cutler threw his head back in the chair and groaned.

“For Christ’s sake, not this again Hal. I don’t care how _sorry_ you are or how _hard_ it is for you to feel guilty, or whatever. You’re such a bloody martyr. I’m the one tied to this chair, not you.”

“You think I’m not still in that chair?” Hal snapped. “Then you really don’t know anything at all, do you?"

Cutler smirked. “All I know is that when you speak to me like that, I see the great Lord Henry looking back at me. And you know what? I think he’s enjoying what he sees”.

“Shut up! You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, there he is! That’s the man I know!” Cutler shouted after him, as Hal ran from the room and up the stairs.


	3. Chapter 3

Alex stomped angrily up and down the stairs. One step at a time, stomp, stomp, stomp in her big boots.

She didn’t need to walk, but she wanted to make it perfectly clear to let Hal, with his precious sensitive hearing, know that she was still pissed off with him.

Stomp, stomp, stomp.

Part of her was in the mood for another argument, but another part of her wanted to sit down on the stairs and cry. It was like bloody ghost PMS, or something. And it was all _his_ fault.

Since Cutler had come into the house, she hadn’t felt normal (if there was such a thing as ‘normal’ when you were dead). And it had been over a week now. She didn’t think she could stand another second of that bastard vampire being in _her_ house!

Technically she _could_ kill him, but she had promised that she wouldn’t. Plus, she liked the idea of being stuck with his ghost (could vampires become ghosts?) in the house even less. She just wanted him gone, so she didn’t have to think about him killing her anymore. She couldn’t sleep thank god, but whenever she closed her eyes she saw it replayed on a loop, like she was watching a film.

She’d left the bar after her so-called ‘date’, a little drunk and very fucked off about what a dick Hal had been (again) and was texting her dad to come pick her up. She hadn’t noticed the man following her, and before she’d even sent the text, he’d grabbed her from behind and held a cloth over her mouth. She remembered gagging on the sweet, chemical smell of it before passing out.

When she came to, she had been in what looked like a pub storeroom with her arms tied above her head. She’d been alone and had struggled to get free, but her hands were bound to the metal frame with zip ties. She’d heard stories about this sort of thing, urban legends about people waking up in bathtubs full of ice with their kidneys missing. Or, if they were girls, sex trafficked to eastern Europe (was that the film with Liam Neeson?). Focusing on stupid things like that kept her from thinking about how terrified she was, how she was losing all feeling in her arms and how she was probably going to die down here.

And then the metal door opened and in walked a neatly dressed man with a smug look on his face. He was a young-looking bloke in a dark grey suit; not really very intimidating. She'd been expecting some big, tough mafia type. But the large men behind him definitely fit that profile, and her stomach dropped when she realised that he was probably their boss.

“So, what’s your name then?”, he asked. He had a weird accent but she could tell that he was English.

“W-what?”

He looked at her like she was stupid and said slowly, “Your name?”

“Alex Miller,” she mumbled.

“‘Alex Miller’”, the man said, as if tasting the words on his tongue. “Bit of a common name isn’t it? A lot of Alexs around these days.” He looked her up and down. “But I guess it goes with the whole tomboy thing you’ve got going on.”

Suddenly, her anger flared up and overcame her sense of self-preservation. “I'm sorry, what the fuck is this? You kidnap me, tie me up in this room, and now you’re insulting my appearance?"

His smile widened, as if he were enjoying her indignation. “You know, I kind of feel like celebrating? Everything’s finally going to plan”. He began pacing back and forth excitedly. “I’m going to get the dog later, and when the time is right, I’ll let him loose and then they’ll all see exactly what I’m capable of.”

Was going to set a dog on her? she'd wondered, feeling her heart pounding in her chest. Was this some weird fetish thing where perverts paid to watch people get attacked by pit bulls or German shepherds?

“The Old Ones think that humanity will just hand them the keys to the planet. But they haven’t seen old grandmothers in Afghanistan try to scratch out the eyes of Marines. No, blunt is not good. To overthrow an incentivised and resourceful race we’ve got to be sneaky…”

He was still talking, but she couldn’t make any sense of what he was saying. She noticed that he gesticulated a lot with his hands as he rambled, but the gestures didn’t give her any clue what the hell he was on about.

“You know there’s even a name for this? Terrorist’s call it ‘a spectacular’.” He laughed manically, and the sound echoing around the walls made her jump. Even though she had no idea what was happening, she realised that this man was dangerous. That she should be afraid of whatever he was planning on doing to her. And she was. She was sweating, and shaking and bloody terrified, and her mind was going a million miles a minute without being able concentrate on a thing.

“They’re going to build a statue of me for what I’m about to do. You know, I think I’m going to like being the king of Brazil. Never been, but I hear the beaches are nice. Plus, it’s got the Amazon, and that’s a conversation starter if I ever heard one.” His eyes were wild, and he looked slightly unhinged. She realised that he was probably a madman because he was monologuing like the Joker. How many times had her brothers made her watch those bloody Batman films?

“…no one ever believed in me. But this is it. I’ve done it, I’m finally going to make him proud, finally going to make history!”

God, her family. They were probably worried sick about her. How long had she been down here?

“…he says he doesn’t want to be part of the Old Ones, but this is the fucking crucible, why else would he be here?”

He stopped pacing and turned to Alex as if expecting her to answer. When she said nothing, he looked at her disdainfully and said, “Well? Can you think of any other reason why Hal Yorke would be hanging around bloody Cardiff?”

“What? You know Hal?”, she asked in disbelief.

The man stopped pacing, and grinned. “ _Do I know Hal_? He only bloody made me. And you, ‘Alex’, who do you think you are, swanning around with him?”

She groaned. “Christ, I knew there was something weird about him, but I didn’t know he was in the bloody mafia.”

“What so you don’t even know what he is?” The man’s face split into a broad grin. “This just gets better and better.”

“What? Look, I don’t understand what you’re talking about. Who the hell are you, anyway?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I should have introduced myself. I’m Cutler, Nick Cutler."

There was an awkward moment where he reached out a hand if to shake hers, and then realising that her hands were tied above her head, dropped it.

"Anyway, the reveal,” he whispered, as if to himself. Then he closed his eyes. When he opened them again, that they were pitch black.

This isn’t real, she thought, things like this don’t happen to people in real life. But then one of the monsters stuck a needle in her neck and she couldn’t help but scream.

Alex opened her eyes. She didn’t want to think about the next bit, with the pain and the plastic tubes and her blood filling those blue gallon bottles that her family used when they went camping.

She just wanted him gone. Was that so much to ask?

She realised that she'd come to stop on the landing. Perhaps she didn’t need to kill him, she thought. If he escaped on his own and the others had to stake him, that wouldn't be her fault, would it? 

She’d only said that she wouldn’t kill him, not that she wouldn’t let him out.

In the blink of an eye, she disappeared and reappeared outside the door to the basement.


	4. Chapter 4

In his dreams, Cutler walked. He had to walk, to reach the Upper Neuadd reservoir. He had to meet the dark man there. He couldn’t take the car, so now his leather shoes were muddy, and he was freezing to death in his soaked shirt and suit jacket. He looked around at the misty green forest clearing in which he found himself. There were trees and bracken everywhere he turned, but there was no path.

He was bloody lost.

Then a child appeared from the fog, a little blonde boy dressed in a scout’s uniform. He climbed towards Cutler, scrambling over mossy logs and rocks to reach him. The kid looked at him for a minute, before taking a tin whistle out of his pocket and blowing it loudly.

Cutler put his hands over his ears. “What was that for?”, he protested.

The kid responded by blowing the whistle again, even harder this time.

“Jesus Christ!”

“Dad says not to take the Lord’s name in vain,” The boy piped up. “Or he’ll see to me good and proper.”

“Well, your dad sounds like a right t-w-a-t.”

The boy frowned at him. “I know what that spells. It’s a bad word.”

“Ok, sorry. Can we just get on with this?”

The boy ran ahead, and Cutler followed him through the trees He would disappear for a moment, and then reappear at his side without a scratch on him. No, not a scratch, Cutler thought. There were bruises on his legs and arms that didn’t come from climbing.

The way ahead was shrouded in mist, and as he climbed after the quick-footed boy he felt himself tiring. He was so weak now. If he could just have some blood, then he would have the strength to carry on. Then Cutler saw the boy up ahead, beckoning frantically.

“Come on, hurry up!”

He scrambled after him, and watched as the boy disappear beneath a clump of bracken. He followed him in. Even crouching down, there was barely enough room for his adult-sized body. As they lay there in the dark, Cutler felt a sense of dread creeping over him and he heard the boy’s heart fluttering like a terrified bird.

“He’s coming," the boy whispered.

“Who?”

“You know who. It’s eight o’clock.”

Then Cutler heard the sound of the door opening and the tread of heavy boots on floorboards. He watched the boy took a toy from his pocket, a tin soldier with a red uniform.

And then a pair of hands dirty with black oil seized the boy and dragged him out from under the bed. Cutler tried to cry out, but it was too late. The boy was already gone.

He was standing alone in the forest again. The slope before him was steep. He saw the boy up ahead of him and waved. The child waved back. There was a dark bruise on his cheek. He wished that he could tell the boy that everything was going to be ok, but he didn’t want to lie to him.

Eventually, he caught up. He was breathing heavily, and he’d lost his jacket somewhere back there on the lower slopes.

“It’s my fault that it’s so steep.” The child said, still walking. “I'm sorry.”

“Don’t say that. You can’t help it. It’s just how it is.”

The boy was running now. “I’m sorry. I’m no good, I’ll never be good.”

He caught hold of the child’s arm and held him still.

“Stop, please!”

The kid is pulling away from him, trying to get escape.

“Listen, it wasn’t your fault, what he did to you and mum. You had no control over it.”

The boy stopped struggling and stared back at him. Then he grew fainter, turning to smoke before his eyes.

And then he was alone again.

*

When she appeared in basement, Alex saw that Cutler was asleep with his head hanging forward onto his chest.

That made it easier, because she didn’t want him to see. He might call for the others, and then she’d be in for it. She wasn’t proud of what she was about to do, but if anyone had the right to revenge, it was her. At least, that's what she told herself.

Stealthily, she moved next to the chair and tried to concentrate on unfastening the straps that bound his wrists. After about a minute, the left one popped open and released his hand. "Hal should have used bloody zip ties," she murmured. "There's no getting out of those."

She jumped back as Cutler jerked and mumbled something in his sleep. For a moment she was frightened that he was going to wake up, but then he fell back asleep and began snoring.

He seemed so helpless like this, she thought. Almost…human. Not like the evil monster who’d killed her so that Hal could drink her blood.

She turned her concentration to the right strap, but it was stiffer than the left and remained stubbornly closed.

Christ, what the hell was she doing? , she thought. The plan was to let him out so that he could escape…and then what? Hope that Tom or Hal staked him before he killed someone?

She tried harder to open the metal clasp, but it seemed to have fused shut.

She bit her lip. The real question was, how many people was she putting in danger by letting him out? People who were just living their lives, totally unaware of all the violence and death and supernatural bullshit going on around them. No one deserved to be part of this world. And definitely didn’t want to bring anyone else into it.

She sighed and released the strap, letting her hand fall to her side. She couldn’t do it. If she did, that would make her responsible for whoever it was he killed.

“You better be bloody grateful for this,” she whispered, disappearing back upstairs and leaving the sleeping vampire alone in the basement.


	5. Chapter 5

When Hal went down to the basement to check on Cutler, he found him asleep in the chair. He was clearly dreaming, from the way his eyes darted about beneath his eyelids. Hal didn’t want to disturb him because he needed all the rest that he could get, so he sat down on a stool and waited. He saw that Cutler looked incredibly pale, and there were dark circles under his eyes. From the amount he had been sleeping he clearly had little energy, which meant that most of the blood had left his system. What Hal had to do next was get him to eat something, which would certainly prove to be a challenge given how nauseous Cutler had been these past few days.

Cutler opened his eyes to see Hal watching him.

“How long have you been there?”, he asked.

“Not long.”

Cutler eyed him suspiciously. “First you lock me in your basement, now you’re watching me sleep? Bit creepy don’t you think?”

Hal ignored this and said, “I thought you could try eating something, so I’ve brought you this.”

Cutler peered at the contents of the bowl in Hal’s hand. It was pale and slimy and looked absolutely disgusting.

“Keep that muck away from me,” he growled.

“It’s just mashed banana. Won’t you at least try some?”

“No.”

“You need to eat something, Cutler.” Hal insisted. “If you aren’t consuming blood you must obtain your energy from alternative sources.” He held out a spoonful. “You should be able to digest this by now.”

Cutler stared at it indignantly

“What if I don’t want to?”

“Then, I’ll just wait right here until you do.”

“Fine by me,” he said stubbornly.

Hal muttered something under his breath. Cutler caught the words “petulant” and “childish”, which made his temper flare up again.

“After everything you’ve done to me, you think you have any right to make me suffer like this?”, he snapped.

Hal sighed. “I’m not trying to make you suffer Nick, this is just the process.”

“Oh, so you’re back to calling me Nick, again are you?”

“Well, it is your name,” Hal replied.

“Have you only just realised that?”

“Calm down, you’ll only make yourself feel worse.”

“No!” Cutler shouted. “You don’t get to tell me to calm down! You’re the one that made me this way!”

“I know,” Hal said patiently. “Do you think I need reminding me of the fact?”

Cutler paused, watching him cautiously.

“So…you’re just going to let me talk to you like that then?”

Hal appeared confused. “You have the right to talk to me however you wish.”

Cutler smirked. “Oh please, as if you won’t be making a note of it for later.”

“ _For later?_ ", Hal frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I know what you’re like. You’ll use it as an excuse to punish me, to make me crawl for you. To beg for you.”

Hal was taken aback. “Oh…no. That’s not what this is. Surely, you know that?”

But Nick was shaking his head. “I don’t know why you’re doing this, what you’re getting out of it. What you’ll expect in return.”

“No. That’s not…I don’t want anything from you, much less expect…”

Hal trailed off. He couldn’t say it.

“Expect to let you fuck me?”

“Don’t.”

Cutler laughed bitterly. “Is that what you want, Lord Harry?”

“No.”

“To bite me? Hurt me? Use me for your own twisted desires?”

“Please, stop.”

“Like you and the others used my wife?”

Hal stepped closer to him and Cutler instinctively drew back. But when he looked into Hal’s eyes, he didn’t seem angry, just sad.

“You’re just saying this in the hope that I’ll turn into him and you’ll get what you think you deserve, because at least you’d understand that. But that’s not how this works, Cutler. I’m not him. In fact, you don’t really know me at all."

Cutler laughed. “Oh, you think I don’t? Because I see right through you.”

He made a circling motion with his head.

“All of this is just an act. To pass the time until the real Hal gets back from holiday, or wherever it is that he goes off to.”

Hal shook his head. “The man you knew, the man you thought you knew, he never let you get close, did he? Never let you see behind the mask.” He leaned in towards Cutler. “That’s because it was me behind there, and he couldn’t let you see that. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have been afraid, wouldn’t have done the things he wanted you to do. You’d have pitied him, and he couldn’t have that.”

Cutler looked away from him. “Oh god, I can’t listen to this.”

“No, Nick. You need to hear what I’m saying. I need you to know that I’m sorry. That I regret everything I’ve done to you.”

“Just stop! This isn’t right. Please, I don’t…I don’t know how to deal with this.”

Hal looked him dead in the eyes. “I’m sorry for making you this way, Nick. I take full responsibility for that. I’m sorry for what I made you do…and I’m sorry about Rachel.”

He felt his rage flare like a beacon at the mention of his wife.

“No! You don’t get to say her name!”

“Nick, please-”

“You think if you just confess, you’ll be forgiven?" he spat. "I’m not your bloody priest, Hal!”

Hal looked at him mournfully. “I don’t expect your forgiveness. But nevertheless, I truly am sorry”

“Christ!” Nick cried. “You really don’t understand, do you? You don’t _get_ to be sorry. Not now, not ever. Because if you’re sorry then…none of it means anything.” He was shaking now, whether from rage or anguish, Hal didn't know. “Everything I did, all those terrible things, all those people I killed…it was all for nothing. None of it mattered. There’s no ‘making history’…it was all just a lie. A bloody bedtime story you told before killing me.”

“Yes,” said Hal whispered.

Cutler laughed, and the sound of it was almost deranged.

“Wow, so you finally admit it! You know, on some level I think I always knew that. I just needed to hear you say it.”

“I’m sorry, I should have told you sooner.”

“Too bloody right, you should have.”

Hal looked at Cutler. His eyes were bloodshot and he was shaky and dishevelled, but he was enduring remarkably well. He brushed a strand of hair from Nick’s face.

“Part of me wishes that you were just bad or weak, or whatever it is that you believe about yourself. If that were true, I would have been easy for me to stake you and be done with it." He shook his head. "But I can’t do that, Nick. You came to me to ask for my help, and now I want you to see what I see so clearly: that you are a good man. That’s the real reason I chose you, and for that I am so sorry.”

There were tears in Cutler’s eyes. “I…I can’t forgive you. You know that don’t you?”

“Yes. And I don’t expect you to. I don’t deserve it.”

There was an awkward pause. Cutler didn’t know what to say.

“Now, will you eat something?”, Hal pleaded.

Cutler grimaced. “I’ll try, but I’m not making any promises.”

Hal picked up the bowl and held a spoonful of banana to Cutler’s lips. “Just a little at a time.”

Cutler opened his mouth. The banana was sweet and wet, but it didn’t register as food on his tongue. It was like eating soap. Despite his disgust, he found this gesture of feeding strangely intimate. He felt Hal’s closeness to him, and caught the scent of something delicious with rich, deep bass notes that seemed to call to him.

But Hal was already raising the spoon to his lips again. Instinctively, he pressed them firmly together.

“Can I ask something else?” Cutler said, stalling for time before he’d have to endure more of the sludge.

“What?”

“What I felt for you…was any of that real? Or just another spell I was under?”

“Oh.” Hal said, taken aback. He was completely unprepared to deal with this right now. “It was such a long ago, Nick.”

“Really? Because it feels like yesterday to me.”

Hal felt exposed by the way Cutler was staring at him. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Tell me it was just another lie, that none of it was real.”

He paused. “I…I can’t do that.”

The scent was Hal’s blood, Cutler realised. He felt his fangs aching, pressing against his lips. His whole being hypnotised by it. He closed his eyes, knowing that they had become overshadowed by darkness. Unconsciously, Cutler reached out, forgetting that his hands were bound by restraints. To his surprise, he found that his left hand was free and made a grab for Hal’s wrist, sinking his teeth into the exposed veins.

Hal cried out, dropping the bowl which fell to the floor and smashed, spilling mashed banana across the concrete.

Cutler even didn’t notice. The world had fallen away and all that was left was the sensation of Hal’s blood flowing into him. His entire being was melting into it, making him feel alive and safe and whole again. It was like coming home. He heard Hal moaning, and the sound aroused him and made him clamp down even harder, taking more and more of his maker’s blood into him until…

“Enough!” Hal exclaimed, wrenching his bloody wrist away from Nick’s mouth. “You can’t do this Cutler, you’re supposed to be getting clean. We both are”

He watched as Nick licked the blood from around his lips.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it?”

Hal’s eyes flickered black, but he blinked the darkness away.

“That’s…not the point.”

“Please Hal, I just wanted to taste. To feel you again.”

Hal was visibly shaking now.

“I know but we can’t… _I_ can’t do this. I have to go.”


	6. Chapter 6

Tom was frying onions in the kitchen when Hal entered.

“I thought we’d have soup for dinner…oh.” He stopped when he saw Hal clutching his bleeding wrist. “You alright?”

“I just, I need to...” Hal gestured to the sink.

Tom moved out of his way. “Course, mate, course.”

Hal ran the wound under the cold tap. It would heal soon enough, but it was cleaner this way. He felt his head spinning as he watched the blood swirl away down the drain. For a moment back there, nothing had mattered. There was no past, no guilt, no regret. Just him and Nick. But he hadn’t been thinking, how stupid he had been to get that close. How dangerous it was for both of them to be exposed like that…

Suddenly Alex appeared leaning against the counter. “What’s cooking, Tommo?," she asked. Then she caught sight of Hal muttering to himself and washing his bleeding wrist in the sink. “Oh shit, what’s been going on down here?”

Tom frowned, scratching his head. “Err…I’m not sure but there’s been a bit of a situation.”

Hal shook his head. “Nothing, It’s fine. Cutler just bit me, that’s all. Alex could you kindly pass me the First Aid Kit?”

With a flick of her wrist, Alex brought it down from the shelf. She watched as Hal proceeded to methodically wrap a bandage around his wrist.

“The strange thing is, he’d somehow managed to get his hand free.”

“What?,” said Tom with a look of concern, “How’d he do that?”

Hal shook his head, “I suppose I must have secured his restraints improperly last night. I don’t know how, but that’s the only explanation I can think of, unless...” He looked up at Alex, who quickly averted her eyes.

“Alex, did you do something?”

She opened her mouth to protest. “What? Me? What gave you that idea? He probably bit through it, or something...”

Hal stared at her. “The strap wasn’t broken, just unfastened.”

“Ok fine!”, she threw her arms up. “I admit it, I tried to let me out.”

“Why’d you do that, Alex?" asked Tom. “You’re the one that was going on about how dangerous he was, an’ all.”

“I know! I’m sorry, ok?". She sat down at the small table. “I just…I kept thinking about what he did to me, and I was so _angry_. I just wanted him gone, and it was the only way I could think of.”

Hal winced as he felt the skin around the wound beginning to knit together. “Didn’t you think about all the people you would be putting in harm’s way?”

“Yes, and that’s why I changed my mind. I stopped myself before I went through with it.” She paused. “I guess I forgot to tie him back up properly though.”

“Oh, really? Do you think so?”, Hal asked sarcastically.

She looked at him apologetically. “I’m sorry, it’s my fault he did that to you.”

Hal shook his head. “Let’s just forget about it. You managed to stop yourself acting on impulse, and that’s what counts.”

Alex thought for a moment. “Ok, but what I don’t understand is, you’re a vampire right?”

He gave her a confused look. “Indeed, that is correct.”

“So, why would he do that? Bite you, I mean?”

“It’s…complicated.” Hal replied awkwardly.

Tom frowned. “Wasn’t trying to hurt you, was he?”

Hal shook his head. “No, nothing like that.

“Well, was he just really thirsty or something?”

“Not exactly. Our blood doesn’t work like that. It doesn’t satisfy our cravings, not really.”

Alex saw the way that Hal was avoiding their gaze, like he was almost embarrassed by their questions. There was more to it than he was letting on, that was for sure. Suddenly, things started clicking into place.

She smirked. “Ohh…I think I get it.”

Hal looked up at her sharply. “Please, we don’t need to discuss this.”

“You’re being sheepish and avoiding the question, so it’s got to be a sex thing, right?”

Tom dropped his spatula to the floor. “A what?” 

Hal glared Alex. “Like I said, it’s complicated.”

“Oh my god, it’s totally a sex thing,” she laughed.

He ignored her, fussing with the bandage, but Alex ploughed forward undeterred. “So what is it like, a turn on for you?”

Tom put his hands over his ears. “I don’t think I want to hear this!”

Alex rolled her eyes at him. “Don’t be a prude, Thomas,” she turned back to Hal, “So?”

“Fine,” he huffed. “Since we are in fact having this conversation, I suppose you could say that it’s something like that, yes.”

“What so, is that a vampire thing then? You all get off on biting one another?”

Hal sighed. “Obviously it’s a vampire thing, but it wasn’t about ‘getting off’, as you say. There’s more to it than that. I recruited him, so on a very basic level his blood is my blood. It’s as though...” he tried to think of how to explain it in a way that she would understand. “Sharing blood like that, it feels like being loved. That’s the only way I know how to describe it.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Ok, that sounds pretty intense.”

Hal looked over at the stove. “The onions are burning.”

“What?” Tom shouted, his hands still over his ears. Alex pointed at the stovetop where there was black smoke coming from the frying pan.

“Shit!” He spun around and turned off the hob and began attempting to salvage the onions. “’Scuse my language.”

“That’s quite alright, Tom.”

Alex looked back at Hal. “So were you and Cutler…you know, boyfriends?”

Hal met her gaze levelly. “I wouldn’t put it quite like that. We were intimate, yes. But I was…not kind to him. In fact, I was exceedingly cruel. I made him love me, and then destroyed his entire world before abandoning him.”

She raised her eyebrows, “Wow, well that certainly explains a lot. No wonder he was so obsessed with you.”

Tom looked back at them over his shoulder.

“Does that mean you’re gay, then?”

“Is that really your take away from all this?”, Hal asked dryly.

Tom shrugged. “Because if you’re here and you’re queer like, that’s fine by me.”

Hal laughed. “Well, thank you Tom. That’s good to know. But to answer your question, no, I’m not gay. In the past I have also enjoyed the charms of women.”

“So, you’re bi then?”, Alex interjected.

Hal sighed. “If that’s what they’re calling it these days.”

“Cool. Me too.”

“Oh…well thank you for telling us.”

She shrugged, “Not that it matters now I’m dead, eh?” She looked over at Tom who was scraping the blackened onions into the bin. “Do you want me to do some chopping? I think I’ve just about got the hang of it.”

“Yeah, go on then.”

“In that case, I shall retreat to the safety of my bedroom,” said Hal. “I’ve already lost enough blood today, as it is.”

He paused in the doorway.

“Could you do me a favour, Tom?”

“Sure, what do you need mate?”

“I would be grateful if you would go down to the basement. I accidentally dropped a bowl of banana and he’s got blood on his face. I can’t…be around that right now. It’s not good for my condition.”

“Yeah, sure.” Tom grinned. “It’s not like he can bite me, is it?”

“Thank you.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Felt like this fic needed a bit of Tom POV, so I'll try and include a bit more in later chapters as well.

Cutler was dazed from Hal’s blood, but it had left him thirstier than he had been before. He remembered then that this kind of blood didn’t work. It wasn’t alive, so it didn’t satisfy the hunger. He wished that Hal would come back, even if he was going to punish him for what he’d done. He couldn’t stand being down here alone again.

As he licked the blood from around his lips, he found himself thinking about the last person he’d fed on. It had been that the coroner woman, Jenny Wilson. She’d phoned him in a panic, thinking that someone had found out what they’d been doing. Cutler knew now that that person had been Hal.

When she’d arrived at the warehouse her usually neat blonde hair had been dishevelled, and her tastefully applied mascara smeared around her eyes. They were red with tears too, and her hands had been shaking as she gripped her cigarette like a lifeline. He’d needed to vent his frustration and hadn’t cared much about her, so he hadn’t even given it a second thought when he sank his teeth into her jugular. He hadn’t seen her face as she died, but he could tell that she’d been surprised.

She was unstable, a loose end, he’d told himself later. It was only a matter of time before she went to the police and made even more of a mess for him to clean up. He’d almost convinced himself that he’d been doing her a favour. It was funny how he could justify anything if he put his mind to it, Cutler thought. Especially when he was riding high on the blood. Guilt and regret couldn’t touch him then. Unlike now.

He could still taste her blood as if it was spilling out of her jugular. It was sour, like nicotine and stress, but the thought of even that made his mouth water. He’d liked making her afraid, he remembered. It had made him feel powerful. Now the memory of her fear left him feeling ashamed. He’d only half-listened to her final words. Something about her children. How she missed them, how she’d only wanted to see them again.

And now she never would.

He heard footsteps on the stairs, and for a moment he thought Hal had returned. But then the door opened, and the dog walked in. Tom McNair, vampire killer extraordinaire. He carried a flannel in one hand and a mop and bucket in the other.

Tom looked at Cutler tied to the chair. He was a right state, all sweaty with Hal’s blood covering his mouth. Some of it had even run down his neck and stained his shirt. Tom had thought he’d looked proper good in his suit and tie before. Classy. Now his smart clothes were all ruined.

“What do you want?” Cutler demanded.

Tom sighed and looked at the spilt banana on the floor. He couldn’t believe he was doing this again.

“You’re a messy bugger, ain’t ya?”

“Hal’s the one that dropped the bowl.”

“Funny that, because Hal’s usually so careful.” Tom pretended to think. “Oh wait! It’s because you was drinking his blood.”

Cutler rolled his eyes. “It’s not as if you could possibly understand.”

Tom shook his head. “Don’t think I want to, to be honest.” He took hold of his wrist and securely fastened it with the strap, tugging on it to make sure it was secure. When he was satisfied that the vampire couldn’t escape, he squatted down and carefully picked up all the ceramic shards that he could see and placed them in the bucket. Then silently he started mopping the concrete floor.

“So…Hal sent you down here to clean up after him, did he?”, Cutler asked.

Tom frowned, “It’s not like that.”

Cutler laughed. “Oh yeah? Because that’s exactly what it looks like.”

“Shut up, Cutler.”

Nick closed his eyes, “Whatever. I’m too tired for this, anyway.”

Tom finished mopping up and set the mop and bucket against the wall. He looked back at Cutler who was slumped over in exhaustion. “Listen, I don’t want you getting Hal into trouble,” he said. “It’s bad enough for him having you here without you pulling things like that.”

Cutler’s eyes snapped open. “ _Me_ get _Hal_ in trouble? Are you serious? You have met him, haven’t you? You think I could get him to do anything he didn’t want to do?”

Tom scowled at him. “You got me to do things I didn’t want to do.”

“Yeah, but that was different. You’re not exactly hard to manipulate, Tom.”

“Are you saying I’m simple?”

“No, but you’re young. Plus, you trust people even when you have every reason in the world not to.” He gestured to himself, “Case in point.”

“You got that right!” Tom said angrily. “I thought you were my friend, but I should have listened to my gut. I wanted to believe you were good, but you tricked me, lied to me, looked down on me...”

“I look down on most people, so don’t take it personally,” Cutler interrupted. “I’m a vampire; it kind of comes with the job description.” He paused and let his head fall back. “Alright, I admit it. I just needed you to do what you do best. Was that so much to ask?”

“You’re doing it again,” Tom accused.

“What?”

“ _Do what you do best_? You’re putting me down, trying to make me feel like I’m no good. Like when you took me out to that fancy restaurant.” Tom paused thoughtfully. “But I get it now. You wanted to make me feel out of place. Like I was good for nothing except killing.”

“Again, it wasn’t personal.” Cutler said. “It wasn’t hard, you practically wear your heart on your sleeve. Not that you have sleeves- No, no, I take it back!”. As Tom advanced on him Cutler tried to hold his hands up in surrender, but now that they were tied down again all he could manage was to splay out fingers.

Tom paused and looked at Cutler cowering in the chair. He was just a scared little man, vampire…whatever, poking at him and trying to get him riled up all because it made himself feel better. It sort of made Tom feel sorry for him.

“Yeah, well now you’re tied to a chair and you should be grateful I’m not staking ya.”

But Cutler wasn’t giving up that easily. “And why aren’t you? Wait, let me guess: Hal told you not to?” He raised his eyebrows. “Looks like he’s got you wrapped around his little finger.”

“Nah, he’s my mate”

“Oh really? Like I was ‘your mate’? You’ve killed dozens of vampires, but here I am. Like you said, I pretended to be your friend and used you as a weapon against my enemies. And yet, somehow I’m still alive.” Cutler leaned forward. There were shadows under his eyes and the blood around his mouth made him look frightening. “I learnt it all from him, you know. How to get inside people’s heads, how to get what I want from them.” He laughed. “Christ, It’s so easy once you figure out the right buttons to press.”

Tom shook his head. “I’m not listening to this anymore.”

“Think about all those people you almost killed, Thomas.” He hissed. “All that blood that would have been on your hands, because of me.”

“It’s not working. You’re just trying to wind me up, so I’ll stake you or something.” Tom hadn’t meant to say that, but as soon as the words left his mouth he realised that was exactly what Cutler was trying to do. Hal had tried to do that too when he was in the chair. When he’d started feeling things again, things that were too big for him to deal with. He looked back at Cutler and saw that there were tears streaming down his face.

“Do it…please. Just kill me.” He whispered. “You know you want to Tom, so do the world a bloody favour.”

But again Tom shook his head. “Nah. Not because I promised Hal, but because you’re not getting your way this time.” He took the flannel and without hesitation wiped the blood from Cutler’s face.

Cutler looked at him blankly, as though he had given up. “I’m sorry, Tom.”

The werewolf shrugged. “Yeah, alright then.”

Cutler frowned, “What? Just like that?”

“Don’t want to get stuck in my ways, do I?” Tom replied. “Not if I want to get on with my life.” He made to go, and then turned back at the door. “Just don’t kill no more people. Cause then I’ll have to stake ya, and Hal won’t be too happy with me.”

Cutler inclined his head, “Fair enough, I guess.”


	8. Chapter 8

Moonlight peeked through the gap in the curtains. It wasn’t yet full, but it was waxing and brightly illuminated the clear night sky. Hal couldn’t sleep. The bed was too lumpy, and he was painfully aware of the springs digging into his back. He would have to get a new mattress. This one was hazardous to his wellbeing. If he had to spend another night lying on it, he couldn’t be blamed for going on a rampage across South Wales.

He found that he had become entangled in the sheets and tossed them to the floor. They were no good either. But really, he knew that the bed wasn’t to blame for his lack of sleep. No, it was the vampire he had locked away in the basement.

Hal’s blood cravings were always worse at night. Perhaps it was because their species was naturally nocturnal and had spent thousands of years hunting under cover of darkness. Or perhaps it was because he kept himself busy all day, suppressing his urges with the aid of his routines. This was the only time his imagination had to run wild. But it wasn’t just blood, he admitted to himself. It was his other cravings too.

He hadn’t kissed or even touched anyone in an intimate way for over fifty years. It was a deliberate choice, one born out of fear of the terrible things his desires could lead to. He stroked the bandage on his wrist lightly and felt a shiver pass through his body. It had been so long since he’d felt anything remotely comparably, he’d almost forgotten what it was like. No wonder he’d allowed it to go on for as long as it had. But that was a poor excuse. He should have known better, acted responsibly instead of behaving like an impulsive adolescent.

He remembered how Cutler had held out a glass of blood like it was the holy grail. He had welcomed Hal back with a smile and wrapped his arms around him. He’d felt how Cutler wanted him then, how much he’d yearned for his touch. It would have been so easy to have captured his lips in a kiss and taken him right there on the table amongst all his best laid plans. The blood had burned so sweetly, like a baptism of unholy fire, but it hadn’t been enough. When it came to blood, there was no such thing as enough. He could drown in oceans of it, and still he wouldn’t be satisfied.

Hal realised that his cock was getting hard, but he tried not to think about it. If he started touching himself it would only make matters worse. Fifty years on, and he was still getting aroused by Cutler and the thought of drinking blood. Christ, did things never change?

He turned over onto his back again and tried to lie still. It wasn’t right, to think of Nick like that. His desire for him was all twisted up with other things like control and hunger and possession. The problem was that because he’d made him a vampire, he didn’t really know how to think of Cutler as separate from himself. Back then, Nick had he’d been a good man; loyal, hardworking, compassionate. That last had been an issue, for a time anyway.

Hal had wanted to make him into his mirror image, because that would prove that anyone could be corrupted. And so when Cutler resisted, he’d blamed him for it. Called him pathetic, a failure. When really, Hal had been the one who'd failed. Of course, he’d succeeded in breaking him in the end, but the thought of that made him feel even more ashamed.

But his mind wandered again to Nick’s blue eyes and his pale shoulders scattered with freckles, his soft hands with fingers so deft, his mouth so eager to please. How his hair grew curly and dishevelled after sex. Would he still be the same? Yes, even after all this time, Hal thought so. He couldn’t help himself, he was stroking his hard prick and thinking about how it had been to be clasped by Cutler’s wet lips and sucked, to feel his blood well up like sap and be lapped up, how their bodies had locked together in a blissful moment that seemed to bleed through all the long years of separation and erase them, leaving only that dark, ecstatic oblivion that felt like peace.

Hal felt himself come quickly with a moan, thrusting into his hand, and then lay still, panting with relief. The breathing was simply a reflex tied to the very act of sex, but it made him feel guilty for getting himself so worked up. He knew better than to indulge in fantasies involving Cutler, especially when they were in such close proximity to one another.

*

Cutler dreamt of Hal feeding him his burning heart, before leaving him again. It had melted like ashes in his mouth, and he’d woken up sobbing. His chest ached with an emptiness that made him feel hollow inside. He felt as he had just after his recruitment, when everything was all pain and confusion and intense, unbearable thirst.

The knowledge that he belonged to Hal was written in his blood, but it wasn’t a reassurance now, as it once had been. When he was younger it had made him feel safe, like no one could touch him (except Hal, of course). But now it just made him feel…what?

_Trapped_ , he thought angrily. Like I’m trapped by the hunger and trapped here in this freezing fucking basement. And I can’t escape, no matter how hard I try. God, he was so thirsty, and so cold he couldn’t even feel his fingers, but there was no chance of getting loose now that the dog had tightened his restraints. He tugged on them in frustration. He’d never felt so angry before, never allowed himself to even when he was alive. Without the blood to keep the floodgates of emotion closed, rage was spilling over and contaminating him. He was probably doomed to feel this way for the rest of his life. Un-life. Whatever. But part of him was scared that the emotion would leave as suddenly as it had arrived. And then he’d just be numb again, unable to feel anything. Though he was unbearably thirsty, a part of him knew that that it would be even worse if he drank. But even though he resented Hal, he couldn’t help but crave his attention. He wanted him to come back, to shout at him, punish him, anything. He didn’t care what, he just didn’t want to be alone anymore. He’d even take some water now, if Hal offered it to him. Though, maybe not the banana.

Those early days brought back other memories too. Of pain ghosting over his body, and Hal’s bloody, violent kisses. Back then Cutler had thought that it was better when it hurt, less complicated. Because if he enjoyed it, then the shame was devastating. It was immoral, to want another man like that; a secret that should be kept hidden. He'd kept it hidden from everyone, even Rachel. Especially her.

He remembered being attracted to her, as he was to certain women, but it wasn’t the same as the way he felt about men. It had been safe to marry Rachel. He had been her first. She was not his, though he had never told her that. Another omission, if not an outright lie. But their marriage had been good, by the standards of the time. They’d hardly ever quarrelled. He’d approached it with the intention of being the exact opposite kind of husband his father had been to his mother. He was kind and attentive to her needs, and she to his, but there was a reason that, despite all the challenges posed by his work, he had felt bored. His other desires had gone unacknowledged like an ache that had always been with him, up until the moment he could deny it no longer. And then Hal had taken hold of him, making him see himself with new eyes, and hadn’t let him look away.

Sometimes after coming home from work he'd used to sit in the car and look through the lit windows of the house. Not long, just for a minute or so. But in that time, he’d remember thinking: Was this all there was, for the rest of his life? Part of him wished that that had been all, and part of him knew it would never have lasted, regardless of Hal’s intervention. Eventually, there would have been something else, or likely someone else. He just hopes it wouldn’t have been such a cruel awakening.

His head was nodding now, and he felt himself falling into sleep.

*

He made it out of the forest to where the car was parked at the top of the track. As he approached it, his eyes became fixated on the boot. He knew why; he could smell the blood from where he stood. That terrible, familiar scent. The one he should have recognised immediately, and the one he still remembers even after all this time.

There was a body in the trunk of the car and it was his job to bury it. Hesitantly, he opened it, knowing what he would find. There she was, lying in her white nightgown stained with blood. He’d seen her so many times over the years, but the blood he'd been drinking had always drowned her out. He lifted her up, so that she could stand. She was surprisingly light, like she wasn’t really there at all. She placed a ghostly hand on his chest and he felt cold spreading out from her touch. 

“They came in the morning, after you left for work.” she said. “They waited out there all night”

“I’m so sorry, Rachel. I should have protected you, kept you safe.”

She shook her head. “You didn’t know what he would do.”

Her face was blurry, and he couldn’t quite make it out. She was like an old photograph faded by the sunlight. “You refused to do it. He was so angry, but he couldn’t make you.” She looked into his eyes. “I wished you would have told me, what you were.”

“I know, but I couldn’t. I was afraid.”

“So, tell me now.”

“You were my wife.” He was sobbing now. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself.”

Suddenly she fell to the ground. At the same time he saw her limp body held by the wire mesh of the bed springs. Her blood was leached by the rubber tube stuck in her neck and as he watched it dripped slowly into a glass bottle. The bottle he had drunk from.

“But you loved me too,” she whispered.

He realised then that he had all but forgotten this in the horror of her death. Perhaps that was Hal had wanted. He’d tried to forget, because all that it brought him was pain. As he looked at her now, laid out before him, it was almost unbearable. There was nothing to numb him to the sensation of falling forever into a dark abyss. As the pain unfolded like a flower opening its petals to the sun, he remembered how his love for her had felt. It had been light and fluttering like a bird, so full of the promise of life yet to come. They had danced in their new house after they’d gotten the keys and drunk champagne until they were silly and kissed and made love like they were falling for one another all over again. He didn’t want to forget that, even though what came later hurt so much.

He picked her up from the wire and carried her away from the awful place. As he laid her in the grave he had dug, he planted one final kiss upon her pale lips.

“Goodbye Rachel,” he said. “I promise I won’t forget this time.”

He let the first handful of earth fall over her, and felt something heavy lift from him. It was as though he could let go and trust that the earth would hold her, enfolding her in its arms like a lover. When he was finished, he gathered some of the white flowers that grew in abundance on the hillside and scattered them on her grave like a blanket of new fallen snow. Then he sat watching the sunset stream red and gold as the light sank below the hills.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter was a bit heavy, so I thought I'd write a bit of Tom and Allison fluff for this next one.

_Dear Tom,_

_I was so please to hear that you’d started studying for your GCSE exams! That’s fantastic news and I couldn’t be prouder of you. I myself am still getting used to being back at home with my parents. I think that they’re just happy to have me here, so they aren’t pressuring me about University or jobs or anything like that._

_Of course, they still don’t believe me about the you-know-what stuff. I don’t want to force it on them, so I have been transforming out in the woods (safely, don’t worry. I’m using a chicken on a piece of string like you suggested). They’re not too happy about letting me go off camping by myself, but I told them that it was the only way I would go agree to go to therapy. I don’t want to speak badly of medical professionals, but my doctor has no idea what he’s talking about. He thinks I am suffering from paranoid delusions, which is obviously not the case._

_Anyway, enough about my problems. How are you fairing? I haven’t heard from you in quite a while. I know that you haven’t spoken much about it, but how are you and Hal now that Annie and Eve have passed over? I’m sure it must be hard for the two of you alone in that big house. Sorry if I’m being nosy, you don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to._

_By the way, I think you should sign up for a Facebook account. It would be easier to keep in touch that way, rather than writing all these long-winded emails to one another. You can see pictures and things that people post, and we can even chat through instant messenger if we are online at the same time! If not, maybe we could have a call on the phone sometime?_

_Yours Cordially,_

_Allison Larkin._

Tom sat back and thought about what Allison had written. After reading through the email again, he realised that the timer on the library computer said that he only had fifteen minutes left of his session. He heard a meaningful cough from behind him, and saw an old man shuffling his newspaper and staring at him.

“Alright, wait your turn,” he mumbled.

His fingers hovered over the keys.

 _Dear Allison,_ he typed slowly.

_I hope that you and your parents are well, please give them my best. I am looking forward to studying and getting some proper qualifications. It is all very well having life experience, but like you said we deserve better than to end up in low paid service jobs. Hal says don’t take any medicine the doctor prescribes if it contains_

Tom took out the scrap of paper with Hal’s neat handwriting on it,

_Barbiturates or Benzodiazepines because they can have bad effects on us, especially if you take them at that time of the month._

He paused and thought carefully about what he was going to say next.

_I am sorry for not replying to your email sooner, it has been a busy few weeks. There are lots of things I need to tell you. First, you should know that Mr. Cutler turned out to be the one behind the video, not that woman Golda. I thought he was on our side but turns out I shouldn’t have trusted him. Also, do you remember Alex who Hal went on a date with? Cutler killed her, and now she lives in the house with us as a ghost._

What was he going to say next? Tom thought. He looked at the time. He only had five minutes left.

_Alex is ok I think, but she misses her family. She’s sound, a bit like a bloke really. We get on, but also argue sometimes. I don’t think I will sign up for a Facebook account because I don’t understand how it works and I use the computer in the library anyway._

He felt a tap on his shoulder and saw that the old man was standing over him.

“It’s my turn next, boyo.”

“Alright, just let me send this.”

_I would like to call you sometime if that’s ok with you._

_Yours,_

_Tom McNair._

He pressed send and logged out. Then he stood up, and let the old man take his turn. Tom saw that he immediately signed into Facebook and began scrolling through it.


	10. Chapter 10

One by one their faces flitted through Cutler’s mind. The maid in the hotel, that girl in the pub at Christmas. Students, young men he’d met in clubs and gay bars. More than he could count. He tried to think of them as people, as _victims_ rather than as food, but he couldn’t ignore how hungry the blood-spattered images were making him. His sleeping mind seemed to know what he wanted most, because he was only seeing the youthful and most handsome ones. They smiled at him invitingly, baring bloody necks and thighs.

He’d never used to mix sex and feeding. It had seemed too messy, somehow. He’d wanted to keep his vampiric nature separate from that. But over time, he began to see it as a means to an end. It was easier invite someone back to his place for sex, than to come up with some elaborate pretence to lure them there. And there was nothing like climaxing while biting into living flesh, tasting how the blood was saturated with pleasure instead of fear. After a time, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

He woke up hungry, feeling his fangs extended before he was even fully awake. The blood-soaked dreams had excited him, and he realised that his cock was uncomfortably hard. But he couldn’t do anything about it because his hands were tied to the bloody chair. He would just have to wait for it to subside, there was nothing else for it.

“Cutler?”

The door opened, and Hal walked in again. He saw Cutler’s black eyes and lengthened fangs, and then look down to see that he was fully erect.

“Ah.” He hovered awkwardly in the doorway, unsure of what to do.

Cutler couldn’t exactly hide his hard on, or the fact that he had manifested meant that he was clearly experiencing bloodlust. He realised that he was breathing heavily as Hal watched him. Though he was embarrassed, part of him couldn’t help but be aroused by the situation. Hal used to enjoy tying him up, leaving Cutler entirely at his mercy, stimulating him or denying him touch for as long as he chose, before eventually allowing him the sweet pleasure of release. He couldn’t tell what Hal was thinking, but from the way the man was looking at him it seemed that his thoughts had strayed to a similar place as his own. But to his disappointment, Hal exhaled sharply and walked right back out the door.

*

Hal returned later, after he’d calmed down.

He sat down on the chair opposite him uneasily and cleared his throat. “You know, when we are suffering from blood withdrawal, its completely natural to experience certain urges, re-live particular memories that are of an…arousing nature.”

Cutler laughed. “Really Hal, you’re giving me the ‘birds and the bees’ talk? It’s a bit late for that don’t you think?”

“That’s not…” Hal frowned, “Look, I just wanted to reassure you that you don’t need to be embarrassed about earlier.”

“I’m not.” He tilted his head to one side as if considering. “Well, I was a bit. It just made me think of when we used to…you know. Things we used to do.”

Hal closed his eyes. “God, please don’t remind me.”

“No, nothing bad! Nothing murder-y.” Cutler protested. “Just you know, bondage and stuff.”

“Cutler please,” Hal insisted. “I don’t want to talk about it, or even think about it”

Cutler raised his eyebrows in amusement at the pained expression on Hal’s face. “O-k fine. I don’t see what the big deal is, though.”

“The big deal is, sexual acts, particularly those to which you are referring, can lead to…other temptations.”

“Wait a minute,” Cutler interrupted, “are you saying that you don’t have sex?”

“No, I do not.” Hal admitted, a little stiffly.

Cutler smirked. “What are you, like a monk or something?”

“No, not a monk. I just try to resist playing in that arena. It’s not good for my condition.”

“But I thought you and Alex were together?”

Hal looked down at the floor. “We went on two very unsuccessful dates. That is all.”

Cutler mouthed W-O-W under his breath. “Man, did I royally fuck up there. I thought you were in love with her, or something. Kind of makes my whole revenge plot a bit of a fail, doesn’t it? Still, what else is new, I guess.”

Hal shot him a dangerous look. “Didn’t you think it strange that Alex had no idea what was going on before you killed her?”

“I just assumed you hadn’t told her about yourself, I didn’t realise you barely knew her.” Cutler shot a glance at ceiling and lowered his voice to a whisper. “And now she just lives in the house with you? That’s a bit weird isn’t it?”

“Really, _that’s_ what you find weird about the situation?” Hal said dryly, and making a mental note to help Cutler work on his empathy.

“Well, amongst other things.” Cutler admitted. “So what about before her, then?

Hal sighed in annoyance. “Are we really back to this?”

“Wait, when was the last time you…” Cutler trailed off as he saw the expression on Hal’s face. “Oh god, don’t tell me it was when we were together?”

Hal said nothing, but his stony silence was all the answer Cutler needed. “That’s…” He opened his mouth and then closed it again. “I don’t even know what to say.”

“You know, if you really want to do this properly, abstinence _is_ a part of it.” Hal insisted. “Besides, this is a lot simpler, given my history with romantic relationships”.

“But what if you meet someone that you like?”

Hal sighed. “I politely decline their offer, and leave at the soonest possible opportunity.”

“What if it’s someone that you love?”

“Nick, please-”

“You should have told me before”, Cutler interrupted. “We could have done it before getting started.” He saw the look on Hal’s face. “Relax, I’m only joking.” He laughed nervously. “Wow, no blood, and no sex. Good times. Next you’ll be telling me that drugs and alcohol are off the table too.”

“Well…”

“No! really?”

“They lower inhibitions and weaken one’s resolve.”

Cutler’s face fell when he realised that he was serious. “But…how do you cope?”

Hal smiled, back on firm ground. “Routine, and good old fashioned hard work.”

Cutler rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well. That’s all very British and repressed, but I had enough of that when I was alive, thank you.” He thought for a moment. “And what does ‘not good for your condition’ mean, exactly?”

Hal sighed. “Just that, I find it hard to maintain control when I am inebriated or tempted to indulge in other ways. One thing tends to lead to another, and then before I realise it things have gone too far.”

Cutler raised an eyebrow. “So, you put all these barriers in place because you have trouble controlling yourself?”

“Essentially, yes.” Hal admitted.

“Well, I’m glad I don’t have that problem. I’ve always been able to keep blood and sex separate.”

Hal chuckled bitterly. “It’s different when you’re off the blood.” He leaned forward to emphasise his point. “Just think how tempting it would be to have it so _close_ that you can almost taste it. And you can never completely lose yourself in the act, because if you do, even for a moment, you risk losing everything. But at the same time, you long for it. It’s…unbearable and not worth it. I learned that the hard way.”

Cutler exhaled a long breath and closed his eyes. “This is too much. I need time to think.”

Hal stood up and turned to leave. “I know that this is a lot to take in. It’s a different kind of life, but one which can be full and rewarding, if you give it a chance.”

Cutler wondered how many times Hal had repeated those words to himself. He still didn’t sound very convinced by them. But perhaps they were all he had. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say.”

He’d been too angry at Hal for leaving before to have really thought much about his life. Suddenly, he wondered if Hal had been as lonely as he had without him, alone for all those years with only a dog and a ghost for company. That was fine, he supposed. But it’s not like they could really understand what he was going through.

But now he was here, and he could swear that there was something between them. What it was he wasn’t exactly sure, but it certainly wasn’t how it had been. They’d both changed a lot over the years. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Part of him longed for the old Hal, but at the same time he was intrigued by this new one. So different, and yet he looked exactly the same. 

He realised that he hadn’t been thinking about blood the entire time they’d been having that conversation. Which was an improvement, he supposed. But now a wave of thirst and nausea was rolling up from his stomach. Damn it, now he was thinking about it again. He sank down in his chair irritably and mulled over the prospect of a life with no sex, no alcohol and no blood until he was thoroughly depressed.


	11. Chapter 11

_Dear Tom,_

_I was deeply sorry to hear about Alex, I hope that she will be able to complete her unfinished business and pass over soon. Frankly, I was appalled by the news that Mr. Cutler was the one who murdered her, though I do remember being shocked by the way that he seemed to regard killing. I have spent several days thinking about this, and I still for the life of me cannot understand what would motivate him to kill her, or for that matter why he would post that video exposing us. Did you discover what his reasoning was before you staked him?_

_Also, please tell Hal thank you for the advice about the medication. I was prescribed Diazepam by my doctor, (which is a type of benzodiazepine) so that was a near miss. I will flush it down the toilet so that my parents don’t see._

_Shall we schedule a call say, for next Wednesday at 6pm? You have my number, of course._

_Yours Cordially,_

_Allison._

_*_

_Dear Allison,_

_I have just started a new job this week. It’s at a dead smart hotel at the beach in Barry called, ‘The Barry Grand’. It even has doilies with pictures of the hotel on them for the guests. I change the beds and wait tables in the restaurant, and am on reception sometimes. My manager doesn’t seem that keen on me, but Hal says if I work hard, she’ll see my potential._

_Glad to hear you didn’t take the drugs, best to steer clear of all of that I reckon. Like my dad used to say: we are a force of nature that cannot be explained by science and we shouldn’t use modern medicine to interfere with that._

_Alex says she doesn’t know what her unfinished business is but thinks it might have something to do with finding her body. After it happened there were some strange men in suits that took her away. Humans, not vampires. Hal reckons it’s some sort of secret organisation, but he’s never heard of anything like that before. So now we’re just waiting to see if anything turns up._

_There’s something else I should tell you. I didn’t stake Cutler. Annie did, before I mean. But she missed his heart and he escaped, then after he healed he came asking for Hal’s help getting off the blood. Turns out that Hal’s the one that recruited him, and the reason Cutler killed Alex was to get back at him for killing his wife. The reason for the video and all that was to impress the Old Ones, but it didn’t work and we blew them up anyway. So now he’s tied up in the basement. Alex is not happy about it, but she’s promised not to kill him or let him out or anything._

_Anyway, we’re going to stay clear of vampires and all that supernatural nonsense from now on. I will call you next Wednesday at 6pm and we can talk then._

_Yours,_

_Tom._

_*_

“Are you hungry?” Hal asked. “I thought we could try some sweet potato today. It may be easier for you to digest than the banana.”

“Of course I’m hungry,” Cutler huffed. “Just not for fucking sweet potato.”

He watched Hal sit down on the stool opposite him again, and Cutler’s eyes drifted to the bandage on his arm. Noticing, Hal hastily rolled down the sleeves of his Henley shirt. “Food is happening Cutler, whether you like it or not, ” he said sharply. “Your body must learn not to depend on blood for nutrition, and that process takes time.” He looked at Cutler’s pouting face and said, “If you don’t eat, it will only prolong your suffering.”

Cutler groaned loudly. “Fine, I give up!”

Hal paused, pointing a finger at him warningly. “I am going to temporarily release your hand. Do _not_ bite me this time, Cutler. If you do, I shall have to ask Tom to feed you when he returns home. I would rather not bother him with this, but I will do so if you leave me no other choice. Now, do you swear not to?”

Cutler rolled his eyes. “Ok, whatever. I swear.”

“Good.” He almost said, ‘good boy’, but bit his lip at the last moment. Old habits die hard. Slowly, Hal undid the restraints that bound his hand.

Cutler wiggled his fingers experimentally. They felt numb, as though his hand were encased in a thick rubber glove. Strangely, there was no sensation of pins and needles. It took him several attempts to grasp the spoon that Hal offered, and even more to coordinate getting the food from the bowl onto the spoon, and into his mouth. When he eventually got the hang of it, he realised that it didn’t taste as bad as the banana. It was mushy and didn’t correspond to what his brain thought of as food, but at least it wasn’t slimy and inedible.

As though reading his mind, Hal said. “It will take time for you to readjust to the taste of food.”

“Why?” Cutler asked. “I used to enjoy eating, and things tasted a lot better than they do now.”

“Yes, but think of what your body has just gone through,” Hal said. “Withdrawal causes massive trauma to the whole system. It takes time to recover.”

Cutler swallowed with difficulty. “You got that right. It feels like dying all over again.”

“Precisely. Which is why your body aches, why you feel sick and your extremities are numb from blood deprivation.”

Cutler huffed. “Pretty much. Plus, I’m still really thirsty.”

“How thirsty, on a scale of 1-10?” Hal inquired. “One being, not thirsty at all, ten being extremely, as though you will die if you don’t drink.”

Cutler considered for a moment. He’d gotten so used to feeling as though he was on the brink of starvation, that he hadn’t noticed the sensation had abated a little.

“Seven, I guess?” he admitted, taken aback by his answer.

Hal nodded. “Good, that’s good. Now, have some more food. As much as you can endure, but stop if you begin to feel nauseous.”

Cutler did as he was told. After a while, he began to taste that the potato was sweet and buttery, but at that point he had to stop because he was starting to feel sick.

Hal took the bowl. “That’s better,” he said, once more restraining Cutler’s left hand with the straps.

“How much longer?” Nick asked, as Hal turned to leave.

“It seems that you’re through the worst of it”, his maker replied. “I’m considering untying you soon, but I’m not prepared to let you out of the house just yet.”

Cutler sighed. “Oh, come on seriously? How much longer is this going to take.”

Hal raised an eyebrow at him. “If I brought a human down here right now, what would you do?”

Cutler paused, biting his lip in case he said something incriminating.

Hal looked at him and nodded. “That’s what I thought.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Actually decided to use a bit of S5 dialogue at the end of this chapter, and I'm pretty happy with how I worked it in :) May do more of that in future chapters.

Tom was sitting at the table staring at the textbook in front of him. He gripped a pencil in one hand, as though there were vampires hidden in the algebraic formulae.

Meanwhile, Hal was focused entirely on measuring the windows. If he was to let Cutler out of the basement, he needed to evaluate whether they would need to be boarded up. The windows were large, single glazed and very inefficient for heating in the winter. But right now, his main concern was that whenever someone passed by, he could hear the sound of their heart beating. He was sure too that Cutler would be even more acutely sensitive to it, having just gone through withdrawal.

But there were a number of other considerations before taking that measure. Firstly, he didn’t want to draw any more attention to the house. There had already been a number of strange occurrences, not to mention disappearances, around the property, and things were bad enough without unwanted but well-meaning neighbours interfering. Worse still, there was sure to be vampires out looking for him, and he certainly didn’t want to deal with that right now.

Secondly, he was unsure whether Tom and Alex would agree to it. Although, if he insisted that it was absolutely necessary, he might be able to persuade them. But that led him onto his next point; he wasn’t sure that it was. Every vampire was different and just because he had, at one time, found it impossible to stare out at the street and see nothing but veins and arteries, that didn’t mean that Cutler would be similarly afflicted.

Tom sighed and dropped the book on the table. “Can you give us a hand with this, Hal? It’s dead confusing.”

Hal looked over at the young werewolf and shook his head. “I only have a rudimentary understanding of Mathematics. Besides, I’m busy”

Tom frowned. “What you busy with? You’re just walking up and down and scowling like Alex has just rearranged the spice rack.”

Hal stopped with a look of horror on his face. “Please tell don’t tell me that she’s been in the pantry again!”

“Alright, calm down, I was only joking. Don’t get your knickers in a twist. Now, are you going to help me, or what?”

“I’ve already told you that I am not familiar with what you’re studying.”

“But I thought you knew everything,” Tom said.

“That’s absurd, of course I don’t.”

“Yeah, but you read a lot of books and you know about history-”

“Only because I’ve lived through it, Tom. “Besides, that doesn’t mean that I intuitively understand how to solve-”, Hal glanced at the book, “-quadratic equations”

Tom stared at him in disbelief. “What, so if I get a GCSE in maths, I’ll know more than you?”

“Yes, obviously.”

Tom turned back to the book with renewed fervour. “Brilliant.”

Hal rolled his eyes. “I’m glad that my ignorance in this subject is motivating to you. When I was your age, I couldn’t even write my name, let alone read or understand arithmetic.”

“What, really?” Tom frowned. “But all them other vampires call you ‘Lord Harry’, and you talk posh, and that.”

“So, from that you assume that I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth?” Hal scoffed. “There’s a lot about me you don’t know, Tom.” When it became apparent that the young werewolf was waiting for him to elaborate, Hal sighed and said, “At first the others called me that as a way of making fun of my low birth, and then over time as my reputation grew, the name stuck. As for my voice, well. Let’s just say that this isn’t how I have always talked.”

“What was your accent before then?”

“I was born in York in the late 15th century when people still spoke Middle English. I don’t think there’s a modern equivalent.”

“Fair enough. So, you’re not posh then?”

“No, far from it. I just imitated those who with more power than myself as a means to an end.”

Tom frowned. “What end’s that?”

He paused and thought for a moment. “Survival, perhaps? People are less likely to accuse a gentlemen of being a murderer. It’s easier to hide in plain sight.”

“Well I haven’t got five hundred years to become a gent, Hal. I’ll only live for another sixty years or something, so I best get on and get some proper qualifications.” He held up the book. “That’s why I’m learning this.”

“And I applaud your efforts to better yourself, but I am a little busy Tom. Perhaps you can ask Alex to help.”

Tom shook his head. “Nah, she’s gone out.”

“Out? Out where?”

He shrugged. “Dunno, she just said something about ghost stuff.”

“Fine, then I suggest that you continue your studies as best you can until she returns.”

Tom had an idea. “Perhaps I’ll ask Cutler. He’s a lawyer, and he’s dead clever so he’ll probably know.”

He probably would know too, Hal thought. The man had always prided himself on being more educated than everybody else around him. Which was not particularly smart when historically those around him had been brutish, psychopathic killers. Still, he’d managed to survive this long without someone staking him.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Tom said, setting his pencil down. “Can you make dinner tonight?”

Hal frowned. That wasn’t on the rota. “Isn’t it your turn?”

Tom blushed and mumbled. “I’ve got a call with Allison at six.”

Hal’s face broke out into a rare smile. “Good for you, Tom. In that case I shall be happy to cook.”

Alex appeared on the table, on top of Tom’s math books. “Oops, sorry,” she said, hopping down. “Didn’t see you there.”

“S’all right.”

“Where have you been?” Hal asked.

“Just wanted to see how far I could rent-a-ghost. I can almost get all the way to Cardiff in one jump now.” She tilted her head to one side. “Mind you, there’s some really _weird_ ghosts hanging about the castle. They shout and throw stuff if I get too close.”

Hal nodded. “Some ghosts can be very territorial. Especially when they’re tied to a place of historical significance.”

But Tom’s expression was one of concern. “That’s no way to treat a lady. Do you want me to have a word with them, Alex?”

“I don’t think that would do much good, Tom” Hal said. “Especially given that you don’t speak medieval Welsh.”

“All the same, I don’t like to think of a lady walking along by herself and having things thrown at her.”

Alex rolled her eyes at him. “Yeah, well this lady can take care of herself, thanks Tom.”

“You sure? Maybe I could go with ya next time?”

Alex stretched out her fingers in a ‘ta-da!’ gesture. “Can’t teleport a living them remember? Unless you fancy getting the train, or something.” She walked around the table to where Hal had resumed measuring the windows. “What are you doing?”

Hal sighed and put the tape measure down on the table. He’d been dreading this conversation, but it was necessary that he told them sooner rather than later. “Now that you’re both here, I need to inform you of something that concerns the household.”

Tom closed his book. “Is this an ‘ouse meeting, then?”

Alex sat down and banged on the table like a judge bringing a courtroom to order. “House meeting!” Tom joined in with both hands shouting, “’Ouse meeting!” at the top of his voice.

Hal rolled his eyes and waited until they were finished before saying. “Yes, indeed. House meeting.”

“So, what’s up then?” Tom asked.

“I wanted to tell you both that I’m…considering letting Cutler out of the basement.”

Alex’s mouth dropped open. “Are you for real?”

“Yes, indeed I am.”

Tom crossed his arms. “Well, good. If you think he’s safe, I’m sure we’ll all be glad to see the back of him.”

“But you can’t, Hal!” Alex insisted. “He’s a killer, you can just let him…” she gestured wildly with her arm. “Walk out of here a free man. Not after what he’s done!”

“This isn’t a prison, Alex.” Hal replied. “And besides, I thought you wanted him to leave?”

“I did! I just…” All the energy seemed to go out of her as she remembered what she’d almost done. “Just not if it’s going to put other people at risk.”

Hal nodded. “I quite agree. That’s why I’m not letting him out of the house. Just the basement. He’ll stay here, with me. Where it’s safe.”

Tom exhaled a long breath of air. “Does that mean I have to share a bathroom with the two of you? Because one vampire in the house is bad enough.”

Hal scoffed. “Oh, you’re one to talk.”

Alex nodded at the tape measure. “What’s with that, anyway?”

“I was measuring to see how wide the windows are, in case I need to board them up.”

She shook her head. “Oh no, you can’t be serious. This is my house too, and I say that you’re not boarding up _any_ windows. The décor’s already bad enough as it is.”

Hal closed his eyes and willed himself to be patient. “Be that as it may,” he said carefully. “It is a possibility that I have to consider. If that is the safer course, then I will take it.”

She threw her hands up. “Brilliant! So once again, we have no say whatsoever in decisions involving Cutler?” Hal noticed that her voice had become strained and high pitched, which meant that she was trying not to lose her temper.

“I’m letting you know out of courtesy for the both of you. But ultimately, yes, I’m the one responsible for him.” Hal insisted. “And it’s hard enough for me to manage my condition, without having to fight you about decisions regarding his.”

“Fine! Bloody typical, is all I’m saying.” Alex muttered.

“We’ll I don’t mind about no windows. Not if it’s safer, like.” Tom said. “Just let me know if you need a hand.”

“Thank you, Tom. I’m glad that _someone_ is being supportive.”

Alex made an exasperated sound. “Sorry, but you of all people don’t get to tell me to be supportive.”

Hal frowned. “What do you mean, ‘me of all people’?”

“You know _exactly_ what I mean.”

“Okay, can we all just remind ourselves.” Hal said irritatedly. “I didn’t kill you. We’ve indulged this…myth long enough.”

Alex stood up indignantly. “Right, well A: you of all people do not get to say when my death is old news. And B: I never actually said…”

Hal turned to Tom. “Me of all people.”

“…you killed me!”

Tom looked from one to the other in bewilderment.

“You’re doing it again!” Hal said, raising his voice.

But Alex barely even seemed to notice, caught up as she was in her anger. “You weren’t exactly an innocent bystander to it all, were you?”

Hal said nothing as his petty anger turned to shame at her words.

“When you asked me out on that date you knew _exactly_ what kind of world you were bringing me into!” She looked at him with contempt. “You shouldn’t be wearing suits, and talking to girls and being charming, you should have a fucking sign around your neck, and a bell. You should be living in a cave!” For a moment, Alex expected Hal to shout right back at her, but he was clearly shaken from her unexpected outburst.

Hal bit his lip to keep himself from saying something he’d regret. Those words hurt, more than he wanted to admit. Part of him railed against the unfairness of her accusations, but another part whispered that she was probably right. He sighed and walked away.

Tom watched him go upstairs, and then looked concernedly at Alex. “What the hell happened there, then?”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> This one was kind of long, but I needed to get Cutler out of the basement so that I could move the plot forward.

*

That evening, Hal was making dinner in the kitchen and ignoring both of them, which was fine by Alex because she definitely didn’t want to talk to him right now. Instead, she watched Tom pacing up and down nervously in the living room, clutching his phone in one hand.

Alex rolled her eyes at him. “Just get on with it Tom, don’t keep her waiting.”

“Alrigh’, don’t rush me! I’m nervous enough as it is.”

Tom inhaled slowly and dialled the number. He didn’t even need to look at the piece of paper because he’s memorised it off by heart. He paused as the phone rang, shuffling his feet anxiously and then-

“Hey, there stranger.” It was Allison. He could hear the smile in her voice.

“Hi.” He said awkwardly. There was a pause, and then she laughed.

“Well, aren’t you going to ask me how I’ve been?”

Tom scratched his head. “Sorry, I’m not very good on the phone.”

“You and Hal, both,” Alex chimed in.

Tom shot her a frantic look and waved his hands as if trying to disperse her. She rolled her eyes and retreated upstairs smirking.

“That’s ok. I know that you probably don’t have much experience in this area,” Allison said.

“Yeah, it’s not exactly like I phoned anyone growing up.” Tom paused and then said, “So how’ve you-” but at the same time Allison said, “Are you-”

He blushed and mumbled. “Go ahead. Ladies first.”

“Alright then, good sir,” she said jokingly. “I was just going to ask how you are?”

Tom nodded. “Yeah, not bad. Job’s going alright. Except for…” He was about to say, ‘except for the suicide last week’, but realised that might be a bit of a mood killer.

But Allison, sharp as ever, picked up on it and said, “Except for what?”

“Oh nothing, my manager still doesn’t like me, is all.”

She laughed. “Ah, the eternal struggle of the working man.”

“Yeah, but she’s a lady actually. And she’s not bad, really. I’m just a slow learner, and she’s very particular ‘bout how she wants things done.”

“Don’t put yourself down like that, Tom.” Allison said firmly. “You’re one of the best people I’ve ever known.”

Tom beamed. “What, really?”

“Yes, of course, silly! Anyway, once you’ve got your qualifications you’ll be able to _choose_ where you work, and not just settle for whatever’s available.”

Tom nodded. “Yeah, that’ll be good.”

“Speaking of education, I’ve actually been looking at University courses again.”

“Oh yeah, what you thinking of studying?”

“Law. I think I’ve mentioned it to you before?”

Tom’s eyes glazed over as he imagined Allison wearing a barrister’s wig and gown. He swallowed and said a little hoarsely, “Yeah, you might have done.” 

There was a pause, and then Allison said slowly, “Actually, I’ve been looking at the prospectus for Cardiff, and I think it might be exactly what I’ve been looking for. Plus, the university’s got a great debating society.”

Tom felt his heart skip a beat, but managed to say nonchalantly, “Oh, right?”

“Yes, and, actually, I was wondering if…” she paused, and then said all in a rush, “I was wondering if I could come and stay? With you, I mean. At the house. Just while I take a look around the University, of course.”

Allison. Staying. At the house. The words floated around Tom’s head, and made him feel as if he’d been wrapped in a warm, golden cloud of happiness.

“Anyway, just something to think about.” She said, as if she was slightly embarrassed.

“Yes!” Tom blurted out, and then cleared his throat and said more casually, “I mean, yeah, that’d be alright.”

“Oh, really?” She said, and he picked up the cheerful tone of her voice. “Won’t the others mind?”

“Nah, not really. Alex'd like someone else to talk to and Hal can’t say nothing, because he’s made us put up with Cutler for the last two months.” Tom hesitated and said, “He’ll probably still be here, when you come visit, though.”

“Well, if Alex tolerates him, I suppose I can too.”

“I’ll make sure he stays out of your way while you’re here.”

“Actually I’d like to give Mr Cutler piece of my mind,” Allison said.

“I’m not sure that’d be a good idea.” Tom said, thinking of the hysterical vampire in the basement.

“And why not? I’d like him to explain to me why he did all those awful things.”

Tom’s heart sank slightly. This is not what he wanted to be talking about, especially with Allison. But he forgot that sometimes she wasn’t as afraid of vampires as she should be. He realised that it was his probably fault, for encouraging her with the training, and that.

He sighed and said, “Well, it’s the blood innit? Makes them crazy.”

“But that doesn’t explain Alex’s murder, Tom.” She insisted. “You told me in your email that it was premeditated.”

He frowned, trying to remember what he’d written in his last email. “Did I?”

“Yes, you said it was revenge.”

“Ah right. Yeah, I did say that.” He remembered now. Tom hadn’t exactly been lying to her before, he just hadn’t worked out the right way to tell her what had happened with the Old Ones and Cutler and everything. He’d just liked how normal their conversations were, and hadn’t wanted to ruin that by bringing up the bad stuff. But then, months had gone past and he’d felt so guilty he’d decided to tell her everything all in one go just to get it over with.

When Allison spoke again she sounded serious, and he could almost see the little crease between her eyebrows that formed when she was dead set on getting answers.

“So, what I want to know is how he could justify something like that. When I met him, he seemed so…I don’t know, rational, I suppose.”

Tom shook his head. “Alright, talk to him if you want. I don’t know why you’d want to know about all that stuff, though.”

“Because I want to understand how people think, Tom.” Allison insisted. “How _murderers_ think. If I don’t understand that, how am I supposed to become a half-way decent barrister?”

Tom scratched his head. “I wouldn’t know about that, but fair enough I guess.”

She sighed. “Anyway. The open day is two weeks from now on a Saturday, so would it be ok if I stayed for the weekend?”

Tom nodded, and then realised that she couldn’t actually see him. “Yeah, that would be great. I’m working Friday, but I can take the day off.”

“I wouldn’t want to put you to any trouble Tom,” she said quickly. “I’ll probably be at the University most of the weekend, anyway.”

“Nah, it’s no trouble.” He hesitated and then said quietly, “Would be nice to spend some time together. Have a catch up, and that.”

“Really?” Because I’d like that too,” she said enthusiastically. “You could even come with me to the open day if you’d like?”

He beamed. “Yeah, that would be great.”

“Talk soon then?”

“Definitely. Bye Allison, take care.”

“You too, Tom.”

Tom hung up the phone and punched the air in excitement. “Yes, get in!”

*

Cutler dreamt that he was on the mountain again, but this time everything was pitch black. There were things watching him from among the trees and they could smell the blood on him. It was on his hands, under his dirty fingernails, staining his shirt, even matted into his dishevelled hair. They could smell his fear, and they were coming for him. He felt their cold breath on the back of his neck and ran, tearing through bracken and brambles, feeling them scratch and scrape his skin, tripping over tree roots as he scrabbled his way up the mountain. He realised that they would catch him once he reached the top, but still he ran.

He burst out of the forest and saw the reservoir before him like a dark mirror reflecting the moon. He didn’t want to go near the water, but felt its siren call luring him towards it. He sat down onto the cold, stony shore without looking at it. At the last moment, he opened his eyes to see his dark self, black eyed and blood stained, leering back at him from the water.

“You think you’ve got the right to live, after what you’ve done?”, it sneered. “If you were _really_ a good man, you’d kill yourself and do the world a favour.”

“No,” he whispered hoarsely. “I’m not going to do that.”

The shadow laughed. “Why? You think you’re going to stay dry? You know you can’t live with the things you’ve done unless you drink”. A wine darkness was spreading out across the water like a stain. His shadow shifted, as if in anticipation of what was to come. “You used to like Greek mythology, didn’t you? It’s not surprising really, you were a little swot with no friends.” The shadow’s face twisted into a smirk that reminded him too much of Hal. The other Hal. _His Hal._

“Remember how blood was poured into the river styx and the dead gathered to drink from the water that tasted of life. To forget who they once been and be free of the pain of their mortal lives.”

Cutler watched as the reservoir turned red, and felt the thirst rising in his dry throat. Slowly, he reached out to touch the blood of the lake, and his shadow reached to touch him in turn. But then at the last moment, he drew his hand back. He didn’t need it anymore, he realised. At least, not like he once did. And he needed to remember what he’d done so that he wouldn’t betray Rachel’s memory, or the hundreds of other lives he was responsible for ending.

“You think every moment you’re still alive isn’t a betrayal?”, his shadow mocked. “You’re a murderer, an addict. You can never change.”

Cutler shrugged. “I can’t help what I am. But you’re wrong, I’m already changing.” He turned away from the lake. “You’re a part of me that’ll never go away, but I guess I just have to live with that.” The sun was rising now, and its light was brilliant. He didn’t need to drag the past behind him like a chain any longer. He could let himself remember, without needing to forget.

*

Cutler woke with a shock, as if he had been plunged into icy water. But he felt clear headed, like he could actually think for the first time in…he didn’t know how long. And though he was exhausted and his body ached from being in the chair, he wasn’t sick or losing his mind from thirst anymore. He heard footsteps on the stairs and recognised the familiar scent. _Hal_. There was a sudden ache in the pit of his stomach, and he felt an anticipatory flutter in his chest. The door swung open, and Hal walked in. But instead of taking his usual seat on the stool, his maker actually moved closer and stood in front of him.

“How are you feeling, Cutler?” he asked, his eyes travelling over him.

Cutler swallowed and looked up at Hal, “Better, I think.”

Hal nodded in satisfaction. “Good. Because I’m going to let you out.”

Cutler had expected to feel relief at those words, and part of him did. But mostly he was afraid. Down here, the thick stone walls blocked out the sound and smell of any nearby humans. It kept him safe from the world. Out there, there would be stopping him from hurting them except his own self-control. He realised he hadn’t said anything, but Hal seemed to have read the worried expression on his face because he said, “Just of the chair, I’m not letting you out of the house quite yet.”

Nick breathed a sigh of relief. “Ok, because for a minute there I was freaking out.”

Hal gave him a small smile. “Believe it or not, that’s actually a good sign. If you were over eager, it would mean that you weren’t ready. I’m glad that you now seem to realise the gravity of the situation.”

Cutler sighed. “Yeah, I get it. I wouldn’t trust myself to go outside right now. At least not on my own.”

Hal squatted down on the floor and began loosening the restraints at Cutler’s ankles. Cutler had almost forgotten that he had ankles, or feet for that matter. He tried to move them experimentally, and it took a few minutes before there was any feeling in them whatsoever.

“I’m probably going to need physio after this,” he complained.

Hal looked at him with a frown as he undid the straps that bound his wrists. Predictably, the man had no idea what he was talking about. Cutler’s hands were strangely numb again, and he couldn’t coordinate them properly, like there was a delay in the commands his brain was sending them.

Hal watching his movements sympathetically. “It will get better, just give it time.”

“Why is this happening?” Cutler asked worriedly.

“Blood deprivation coupled with lack of use. It’s a common side effect of going through withdrawal.”

“I hate it, I can’t feel properly.”

Hal’s hazel eyes were warm as he looked at Cutler. “Here,” he said, reaching out and taking one of Nick's hands in his own. “This might help.” He began massaging his hand, rubbing and squeezing the feeling back into the digits. It felt so good just to be touched, and Cutler realised that his eyes had drifted shut in contentment. Hal began working on the other hand, and soon enough he could actually use them again. When he was finished, Cutler held his hands up to look at them. It was as if they were foreign objects, not yet quite part of him. And his nails could really use a manicure.

“Now, try standing,” Hal said holding out his hands to Cutler, “But lean on me for support.”

Cutler gritted his teeth and grasped Hal’s hands. His maker had to practically pull him upright, because he legs buckled beneath him and he collapsed against Hal.

“Ok, was not expecting that,” he said.

“I was,” Hal said breathlessly, draping Cutler’s arm over his shoulder and grasping him by the waist to support his weight.

Cutler huffed. “You should have done my legs as well as my hands.”

“Maybe,” Hal agreed. “But it’s a bit late for that now, isn’t it?”

When he’d been in the worst of the withdrawal, Cutler had thought of running away as soon as he was released, but the idea of that now was laughable. He was already drained of energy, and he’d only taken a few steps. He almost wished that he could sit back in the chair, though he said no such thing to Hal in case he granted his wish. As they approached the door, Cutler found it bizarre to think that he was actually leaving the room he’d spent the last however many weeks in. There was a steep flight of wooden stairs in front of him now. He’d never thought stairs would prove such a challenge.

“One step at time,” Hal said, seeing the apprehension on Cutler’s face.

Cutler raised his eyebrows, “Kind of like recovery then?”

“Precisely.”

It was dark in the hallway when they emerged from the basement. The light was off and there was moonlight streaming onto the carpet through the glass of the front door. Cutler had never realised before how beautiful it was, with its delicate, silvery glow. And it gave him a sense of time, which was a lot more than he’d had for…however long he’d been down there. It reassured him that this was a real place, and not some bizarre hallucination.

Then there was a flash of bright light and a loud roar broke the silence. Cutler fell back, clutching at Hal in fear.

“Don’t worry, it’s just a car on the road outside,” Hal said quietly.

Cutler inhaled slowly, trying to catch his breath. Ok, that was embarrassing. He shook his head. “Can you just take me wherever it is you’re taking me?”

Hal nodded. “Upstairs.”

Cutler sighed “Oh, great more bloody stairs.”

*

Hal had run him a bath, and left him to his own devices. It wasn’t as if he could escape with his maker right outside the door, after all. Not that he was in any state to make a run for it. He was glad of the hot water, which warmed him up. His body temperature was tepid now, rather than freezing. As Cutler soaped himself and washed his hair, he began to feel clean again. More like himself. He wished he could get the feeling of the cellar off him completely, but it was as though it had seeped into his bones. He ran a hand over his face. He needed a shave. He looked around and spotted a safety razor on the side. Not really his style, he preferred an old school model, but he supposed this would have to do. He’d got used to doing it by feel soon after he’d been recruited. He’d had to in order to avoid looking scruffy, which Hal had made very clear he disapproved of.

Cutler slowly picked up the razor and ran his thumb over it. Even this could slice the skin if he wasn’t careful. He imagined pressing it into his skin and watching droplets of beautiful, red blood fall into the cloudy water. He shook the thoughts away. “Not helping,” he said to himself quietly. He took the razor and ran it down his cheek, and was surprised to see how much scruff was scraped away. He wondered again how long he’d been down there. After he’d finished, he ran his hands through his hair. It was much longer than he was accustomed to. He thought momentarily of going to visit the Declan, the vampire barber, and then remembered that he’d bit the dust along with the rest of them at the warehouse. But he couldn’t return to work looking like a bloody hipster.

He sat bolt upright as he remembered. Christ, his job! He hadn’t thought about it all this time. They probably thought he was dead or something. He’d have to call them and sort everything out, but he didn’t even know where his sodding phone was. He didn’t think he’d had it when he’d come to the house, and his laptop was back at his flat in Cardiff, so he couldn’t even send them an email to explain. Not that they probably had internet here.

It was strange thinking about his old life. Everyday things hadn’t seemed important until now. He’d been too focused on surviving the ordeal of drying out. The more that Cutler thought about it, the more he felt that something in him had died down there in that cellar. Perhaps an old self, one he no longer needed. Or maybe he was just him trying to put a positive spin on his new condition, because without blood he felt like death warmed over. Not properly alive at all.

Cutler realised that he was falling asleep in the warm water, so he rose unsteadily and stepped out. He found that Hal had left him a towel and some spare clothes on the floor. He picked them up and inhaled. They still smelled like Hal. The scent was instantly recognisable, even after all these years. And yet the familiarity was almost uncanny, embodied as it was in this new Hal who was so strange, and so sad. Not exactly _his_ Hal, but not quite a different person either. He couldn’t get his head around it.

He dried himself off and put on the black shirt and a pair of dark blue jeans. It was weird that the clothes pieces were so plain. His Hal had liked expensive tailoring and sharp, crisp suits. Fine wine, Cuban cigars, and ruby cufflinks; only the best for Lord Harry. It was only when it came to blood that Hal had been less than particular. Even by vampire standards, he’d been considered a bit of a lush. Not that anyone would _ever_ have dared say that to his face. Only now did Cutler realise that it was either feast of famine for his maker. For Hal, there was no such thing as moderation. Where that left Cutler's own recovery, he had no idea. But he didn't intend to follow Hal's own strict model, if only for his own sanity.

He heard a knock on the door and opened it to see Hal standing there. “Are you finished?” he asked.

Cutler looked down at himself. “Yes, obviously, since I’m wearing clothes. _Your_ clothes.”

“You took a long time.” Hal said impatiently. “I have other things to be getting on with.”

Cutler rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry, I wasn’t trying to drown myself in the bath or anything so you can get back to your precious routine.”

Hal nodded. “Then I shall, after I’ve shown you to your room.”

“What do you mean, ‘my room’?” Cutler said, staring at him incredulously. “I have my own flat, I don’t bloody live here!”

“I’ve told you already that it is imperative that you stay here, at least for the time being.” Hal repeated. “Just because I let you out of the basement, make no mistake that the process of rehabilitation if far from over.”

Cutler shook his head. “Right, right, you said. Sorry, brain’s not working 100% yet.” He paused. “But won’t the other two mind?”

Hal frowned. “We’ve discussed it. Neither of them are happy about it, but they’ve agreed to let you stay in the house. At least until you no longer pose a danger to others”

Cutler felt the sensation of claustrophobia closing in around him. He wanted to escape, to claw at his skin and get away from it. He shook his head. “But that could be…oh god, I don’t even want to think about how long.”

Hal put his hand on Cutler’s shoulder to steady him. “You’re getting ahead of yourself, Nick. One step at a time, remember? Just let me show you to your room, and then you can get some sleep.”

Cutler turned and said quietly, “In an actual bed?”

“Yes, in an actual bed.”

Hal led him to a door on left-hand side of the corridor. As he opened it, a rush of cold air that smelt of dampness and washing powder rushed out. No one, at least no one living, had been in here for some time. Half of the walls were painted a drab olive, the other covered in faded floral paper. The flowers unfolded in dull pinkish oranges that threatened to suck him into the pattern. The wallpaper alone made Cutler want to kill himself. The carpet was a clinical grey green, the colour of dentist’s chairs and wipe-clean hospital furniture. The only relief would have been provided by a small window, but even that had recently been boarded up.

Cutler stared at it. “Are you serious?”

Hal raised his eyebrows at him, “Would you prefer the basement?”

Cutler chuckled weakly. “Fair point, i’ll take it. Just don’t expect me to pay for the week up front. In fact, you’re the one that should be paying _me_ to sleep in the B&B from hell.”

“Again, would you prefer the basement?” Hal smirked.

He yawned. “No, no. There’s a bed. Two even, so I’ve got my pick.”

Hal turned to go. “I shall return momentarily, I’m just going to fetch some sheets.”

“What luxury,” Cutler muttered under his breath. He knew that he was being ungrateful, but he felt exhausted, and it was making him thirsty. The main feature of the room was the two mismatched beds: One with a faux wooden headboard, the other white vinyl. When he lay down gingerly on the vinyl and he felt springs digging into his back. He wondered why there was already a sheet on the wooden one, until he lay down on it and realised that it smelt ever so slightly of corpse. He pulled back the sheet to see the unmentionable stains that had bled through onto the mattress beneath. Resigning himself to an uncomfortable night’s sleep night, he settled for the vinyl. At least it was better than the chair.

Opposite the bed was a small wooden wardrobe with a rolled-up duvet on top of it. He fetched it down. He supposed this was his to use for now. When he went to peer inside, he saw that it was empty. One rail, no hangers. Not that he had anything to put inside it. He had exactly zero possessions here, except for the dirty clothes that he’d been wearing before he got in the bath. He hadn’t been thinking clearly when he’d come to the house, half out of his mind with thirst. He hadn’t exactly thought this far ahead. He’d half expected Hal to just stake him and be done with it. At least then his suffering would have been over. But no, nothing was ever simple when it came to him and Hal.

Speak of the devil, Hal returned with some pillows, a duvet and clean linen and put them down on the bed.

“Do you have everything that you need?” he asked, his hazel eyes looking up to meet Cutler’s own.

“Except for pretty much everything, yes.”

He sighed. “What is it that you want now?”

Cutler looked at Hal as though it was obvious. “My phone, my laptop, and some of my own clothes, for a start.”

“You said that you’d lost your phone,” Hal said with a frown. “Do you not remember?”

Cutler paused. “Oh. No, I must have forgotten. I’ll get a new one. I just want to call my work and tell them that I’m not dead. And before you say, ‘you can’t go out yet’, I know. I’ll use the landline.”

“I called them,” Hal said.

“What?”

“I said, I called them. Weeks ago, when you first arrived. Tom had the number for your office. I told them that you were unwell, and that you would be taking a leave of absence while you recovered.”

Cutler was completely taken aback by Hal’s consideration. Another new thing. “Oh, that’s…thoughtful. Thank you, I guess.”

“So now will you at least try and get some sleep?”

“Ok fine, you can go.” He smirked, and gave Hal a suggestive look. “Unless you want to stay and tuck me in, or something?”

Hal rolled his eyes. “I’ll be in my room. You know where it is, in case you need me.” Cutler watched as Hal closed the door behind him. He hastily pulled the sheet over the mattress and tugged the cover over the duvet.

Part of him wanted to crawl into bed, but he was curious about the vanity that stood next to the door. He looked into the large oval mirror which reflected only the empty room. There was a lace tablecloth on top of it, and some books on birdwatching which were of no interest to him. He opened one of the drawers. Inside was an assortment of women’s beauty products; deodorant, makeup, face wipes, moisturiser, tweezers, even a packet of unopened menstrual pads. There were other things too. A pink robe, a hairbrush tangled with blonde strands. A nurse’s badge. He picked it up and read the name, ‘Nina Pickering’. He remembered that name. It had belonged to the wolf Griffin had sent his thugs to kill. Standard revenge protocol. He’d thought nothing of it at the time, but these were _her things_. Christ, they still smelt faintly of her. He dropped the badge and slammed the draw shut. At least Griffin had got what was coming to him. Cutler had never liked the smarmy bastard who’d always talked down to him and forced him to make his bloody tea.

He was worried that there’d be more nasty surprises in the nightstand, but he had to know for sure if he was going to sleep here. Otherwise, it would keep nagging at him all night. He reached in, before withdrawing his hand with a hiss. A copy of the Holy Bible fell out and landed open to a page bookmarked by a frayed ribbon. Luke 11:24 was underlined lightly in pencil. He stared at the passage as it lay on the carpet, even though reading it made his head throb. _When the unclean spirit has gone out of a person, it passes through dry places seeking rest and finding none it says, ‘I will return to the house from whence I came.’_ Hastily, he threw a blanket over the book to cover it up and then sank down onto the mattress, exhausted.

Is that what I’m doing, he thought, returning home? Because it certainly doesn't feel like it. It was more like being surrounded by the remains of the past. But then again, what was more familiar to him than that?

At least now he had a bed to sleep in.


End file.
